#already ive gotten the “are you ace?” question

[oifaaa]

Trying to explain to a cishet man that if I wanted to be in a relationship right now I would be is apparently much harder then it really should

[im-sleepdeprived]

Seasonal • Pt. 5

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: inspired by the taylor swift song ‘peter’ where you and peter discover just how hard it is to hold on to something from your past, no mater how much you love each other

a/n: FINAL PARTTTT !!!!! im so sorry it took so long ive just been getting my ass kicked with life recently and ive been away from my laptop and stable wifi for tooooo long. for anyone who stuck it out till now, i literally can not put into words how much i love you. this series has been so much fun for me, and i put a lot of work and love into it so thank you sooo very much for reading, every last one of you <33333

warnings: cursing, james, peter’s such a cutie here, some chaos, an accident, fire, bodily injuries, mentions of blood, there’s a scene where they’re reading medical charts, I have no idea how accurate it is so let’s not dwell. she’s a long one, so buckle up, grab a snack, and I realllyyyy hope you enjoy <33

masterlist, read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

You’d never asked Peter why he always called you ‘Ace’. The one time you remember asking anything he’d said ‘think it suits you, don’t you?’ And you’d just accepted it. Honestly, you loved it. It was special, it was yours. Something between you and him. Even after the two of you had broken up, he’d still used it, and you were thankful for that because you weren’t sure you could handle that being gone too. He’d never call anyone else by that name and no one else would call you by that except him. It was important to the both of you. 

And apparently, James could see that.

“I just don’t understand why he can’t call you by your fucking name.” He sneered, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. All in all, at the end of the day, it was just a nickname.

“James, I don’t really get what the big deal is here. So we used to be close, and he has a nickname for me, that’s not exactly rare. It’s just a thing people do.”

“Ace,” he said and immediately, you knew it was wrong. No one else was supposed to call you that, no one except Peter. And the way he’d said it ‘Ace’ like he was disgusted, like it was the worst syllable that could leave his mouth. The complete opposite of the way Peter said it. 

When Peter said it, it made you feel special, it made you feel seen in a way no one else had ever made you feel. It was said with care and wit, with charm and love. With love. Always with love. 

“I swear I haven’t heard your name come out his mouth once since we’ve been around him, it’s always ‘Ace, Ace, Ace’” James scoffed and the sound left a foul taste in your mouth. Things had been like this since Peter had transferred. At first, it was just a few questions here and there. But after the photography contest and Peter’s collage of you winning first place and being blasted everywhere, it had definitely gotten more heated.

You hadn’t told him about that morning in the park, as far as James was aware, you hadn’t seen Peter since the party. In truth, you hadn’t seen him since that morning, when he’d said all those things, and used your first name. You weren’t avoiding him, per se, just…trying your best to not be around him. Your article came out in a couple days. All your notes had been taken, and you’d already done your research, so it was easy to work from home so far. That couldn’t last forever.  

You didn’t know what to say to James, so you kept silent in hopes of avoiding angering him even more. You didn’t know what he wanted you to say, offer to ask Peter to cool it with the nickname? Maybe, probably. But you weren’t going to do that. You weren’t even sure Peter could stop, you couldn’t remember the last time he had said your name either (minus that morning in the park, that seemed like a special circumstance after all), but you preferred it that way with him.

Maybe the right thing to do in this situation would be to change this, talk with Peter and ask him politely to stop because it was making your boyfriend uncomfortable, and because you cared about him and how he felt (your boyfriend), you might try to politely arrange this so both parties didn’t hurt anymore. 

But there was another part of you, the dreamer, the hoper, the girl who used to sit on that hill with Peter and gaze at the stars, the girl who spent months sitting by the window with her lamp on, giving the love of her life every benefit of the doubt, every excuse in the book to cope with how he’d handled things. She didn’t want to do the right thing. She thought James was a dumbass who was being way too dramatic. 

God, you’d known Peter basically your whole life. Every childhood memory, you could spot him in the background somewhere. First day of school? You could see him walking through the doors, holding hands with his Aunt May. First field trip? You could spot him on the bus just a few seats ahead of you. High school graduation? Oh, he was definitely there.

And it isn’t like you actively sought him out either, he was just always…there. Since he came back, it was as if every force in the universe was trying to push the two of you together. That girl who sat by the window would’ve taken that as a clear sign, but not you. You just found it annoying.

Or at least…you thought you did.

You’d been a jumble of mixed, confused, and muddled thoughts since that morning in the park. Peter had said everything you’d once craved to hear from him. And yet, there was still so much you two needed to figure out if things were going to be normal between the two of you. What was normal between the two of you? Could you truly be just friends? After he’d told you he thought about you every day and dreamt about you every night? How does one suddenly go about ‘Oh yeah, that’s my ex. No, we never really resolved things and he just randomly popped back into my life after almost two years of not seeing each other, also, he practically admitted the reason he transferred colleges was because of me. It’s chill though.’ and be normal about it?

Since Peter had come back you’d been feeling a lot of guilt when it came to James. It was, after all, a difficult position to be put in. Your girlfriend’s ex randomly popping up out of nowhere and shoving himself into every aspect of her life? You weren’t an idiot, you knew that would be hard on any guy and you were trying to be so understanding, but it felt like he just wasn’t meeting you in the middle with this. And lately, that guilt had been tinged with something akin to irritation.

For instance, you were always trying to make up for everything going on with Peter. Always making sure to schedule some alone time, whether that be walking around campus or going over to each other’s apartments, sending extra sweet texts, and yet he never seemed to appreciate it. Either James ended up ignoring you, standing you up, or being an insecure moron. There was no need to talk about Peter right now when you were supposed to be spending quality time, and yet it was almost like he couldn’t help himself. Honestly, it was starting to piss you off. It seemed like he had no more interest in you and focused all his energy solely on your ex-boyfriend. He never seemed to appreciate anything anymore. It was almost as if he wanted to stay mad.  

You looked at his eyes, that pretty green shade that’d caught your attention when you’d first met him was long gone and replaced by a darker, stormier shade. Now that you thought about it, you couldn’t recall the last time his eyes had looked that pretty.

“James, we’re supposed to be spending time together,” you tried lightly. “We don’t need to talk about him right now”

You watched as he rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath. “What was that?” You asked, irritation dripping in your voice. 

“Nothing,” he said as he shook his head and looked away, only further infuriating you. 

James picked up his phone, scrolling while you stare at him helplessly. “James,” you sigh, “if there’s something bothering you could please let me know instead of—”

His phone dinged. He didn’t even give you a second thought before standing up and pocketing the cellular device. “The boys are chilling at Logan’s, I’m gonna head over there.”

“James.” You called after him as he walked away. “James.” Nothing. A few seconds, then…the slam of the front door. 

You threw your head back on your pillow, letting out an enormous sigh. You didn’t know what to do anymore, you didn’t want to hurt anyone, but it seemed that’s all you were doing. James didn’t even seem to want to put in the effort to make things better, Peter…well you had no clue what was going on with Peter. 

A knock on your open bedroom door caused you to raise your head. Alyssa stood in the doorway holding a carton of ice cream and two spoons. 

“You heard?” You asked. 

She winced, moving across the room to sit beside you on you bed. “Sorry babe, thin walls.”

You hummed, grabbing one of the spoons from her and scooping out a chunk of ice cream into your mouth. “I don’t know what to do!” You mumbled.

She followed suit, “He’s acting like an unreasonable dick, I know.” The both of you nodded. “The only thing I can think of is to give him some time. To settle down, to adjust.”

“I thought that too, but it’s like every time he sees Peter again, all that progress resets! So what’s the answer?”

“Murder Peter?” Lyss suggested, scraping some ice cream onto her spoon. 

You clinked your spoon against hers, “Not funny.”

“You’re right.” She said while laughing, causing you to shove her shoulder lightly. That only made her laugh harder. “I don’t know girl,” she finally spoke once she’d calmed down a bit, “this is kind of a unique situation.”

“Ugh!” You groaned. “Tell me about it.”

“And…I have some news that might not help.”

You paused. “What kind of news?” You asked slowly. 

Alyssa cringed. “I kinda sorta might absolutely need you to come in tomorrow.” 

You gaped at her. She knew you were avoiding Peter. She had just listened to you talk about how terrible it was every time James and Peter were in the same room and now she was trying to get the three of you together?

“I know it’s shitty timing—”

“Shitty timing?!”

She continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “And I wouldn’t do this to you unless I absolutely had to, believe me. But Rajesh, Sabrina, and Cora all called in sick and we still have so much work to do for the next issue so it’s all hands on deck and as your editor I know this is what needs to be done but as your friend…” she pouted at you, “I’m really, really, reallyyyyy sorry sweetie.”

You sighed. There was no choice. “So that’s what this was for?” You asked, motioning your spoon to the tub of ice cream sitting between the two of you. 

“No!” She shook her head in disbelief. “This was because your boyfriend is being stupid, your ex is being weird…and I wanted you to be eating something sweet when I told you about tomorrow.”

The two of you laughed. “Hey,” she said suddenly, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “I still mean what I said, I can fire him.”

“You just said ‘all hands on deck’!”

“Well, after we finish everything that needs to be done.”

You rolled your eyes, ���Don’t, bother, he’ll get the hint eventually.”

You didn’t blame Lyss for asking you to come in. At all. 

The news room was a mess. She wasn’t lying when she’d said all hands on deck. In fact, you weren’t sure if all the hands you had would be enough.

“Stephanie, sweetie, that goes over to photography.” You said exasperatedly, trying to keep your composure. This had been the third time you’d directed her. 

“Oh!” she said as if it were the first time. “Got it, sorry Y/N.”

You tried not to roll your eyes, the ruckus of the newsroom and its staff was starting to get to you, but you couldn’t get overwhelmed yet, not with so much still yet to be done. 

Lyss had taken over one half of the room while you took the other. You managed and guided, made some comments here and there, gave tips to some other editors. Your piece was currently undergoing editing by one of them and you had to admit, you were a little anxious. You knew it was good, you had gotten Alyssa to proofread for you, you had also asked James, but he hadn’t gotten a chance. You’d worked your butt off on this piece, but you were afraid after all the…events that had taken place that night, you might have been a little off. 

Speaking of events, you were turning to sneak a look over at Elijah, who was currently working on your article, when you caught a glimpse of extremely familiar brown curls over by the other photographers. All hands on deck, you thought. Ducking your head, you tried to move discreetly to the side when someone stopped you. 

“Y/N! Can we get your opinion on the front page layout?” It was Ryan, one of the photographers. Beside him sat a girl you weren’t quite familiar with, a fresh addition, you supposed. Together, they were working on the layout for the next edition. 

“We weren’t sure whether the headline should go here,” says the girl as she moved a cut-out piece of paper, “or here.”

You froze. There, on the front page, the picture that would be accompanying your article, was you. Or you on that damn collage as Peter held the ribbon with the most forced smile you’d ever seen. Maybe no one else could tell, but you could. You could always tell. Those crinkles by his eyes that you used to love so much weren’t there, a telltale sign. 

Something in your heart broke at that moment, guilt pouring all over you. He had done this amazing thing, made an incredible piece of art, won a really tough competition, and he hadn’t gotten to enjoy it. Because of you. 

“Y/N?” Ryan asked, confused. 

“Sorry.” You snapped out of it. No time for that right now. “Um…” you stared at the layout for a moment before shifting the headline slightly to make it more centered and positioning the photo beneath it. “Does that work? And the article would go here,” you pointed to the bottom of the page where it was empty. 

You watched as Ryan and the girl nodded. “That was my first choice.” Ryan said as he shot the girl a look. You had a feeling they’d been on this for a while. “Oh whatever Ry,” she rolled her eyes, but you could see her fighting back a smile.

“Alright, if you need anything else, just let me know.” You informed them. They agreed, and you moved to make your way around your half of the room again to make sure everything was going as it should be. 

“Y/N!” Lyss came running at you with a panicked look on her face that makes your heart drop. 

“Oh no, what is it?” You asked, already bracing for what might come out of her mouth. 

“I have to go. I just got an email from one of my professors, I have a fucking paper due by tonight and it counts for…well I don’t know, but a good chunk of my final fucking grade.”

Your face fell and you looked at her as if she’d just told you Godzilla was attacking the city. “Lyss, you cannot be serious right now.”

“I know, I know,” Alyssa winced.

“Well, ask for an extension!” You said in disbelief.

“I did! I swear I did, but apparently I’ve already used up all my extensions for that class? I didn’t even know you could do that!”

“Alyssa,” you whined, rubbing at your temple. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I can barely keep up with my half! There’s no way I could handle yours!”

“I’m so sorry, this is totally my fault, I just—” Alyssa was cut off by an all too familiar voice hat made you freeze in your spot. 

“Hey…Listen I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you talking and I thought I could—”

“No,” You turned towards Peter, shaking your head at him. But the same time you said ‘no’, Alyssa perked up beside you, nodding eagerly. “Lyss,” you murmured quietly, turning towards her and widening your eyes in warning.

“Oh Y/N, come on,” she whined. You were hyperaware of Peter watching everything going down between the two of you. “If he can help, let him! Get some use out of him other than his longing stares across the room.” You noticed Peter fighting a blush, and you tried not to react to her words.

“He wouldn’t have to help if somebody remembered she had a paper to do.” You said with a small huff. 

“I know, I know,” she winced again, “and I swear girl, when I walk that stage to get my degree, I’m gonna thank you in my speech.”

“You don’t get a speech.”

“It’s fine, I’ll steal the microphone.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you at her promise. Glancing at Peter, who was still waiting there patiently, you scrunched up your nose at Alyssa, “Does he have to?”

“I’m right here, Ace.” Peter said simply. 

The nickname took you back to your argument with James last night, and you hated it. “That’s kind of the problem, Parker.”

“Hey,” Alyssa spoke up, and she was using her ‘I’m the editor and I decide how things go around here’ voice, making you shut up. “Listen Y/N, I know this is less than ideal, but you wanna be a writer and work in journalism for real? You’re gonna have to learn how to deal with people you don’t exactly get along with. Be professional.”

“And you,” she turned toward Peter, giving him a scathing look. You saw him visibly gulp, which made you feel a little bit better. “As a photographer working at the paper I manage, you’re awesome. But as a person, walking into my best friend’s life and acting the way you do? You piss me off. But…” she held up her hands, “I’ve threatened to fire you and she’s stopped me, so here we are. So, as a member of the paper, and only as a member of this paper, I’m telling you yes, we would appreciate your help while we face this very difficult time with half our team being struck down by The Plague.”

You snorted, “The Plague?”

Alyssa scoffed and looked at you incredulously. “No, seriously! What else do you call three—no, actually, four because Bernice just called me earlier, but what do you call that? They’re all sick!”

“The flu?” Peter tried. 

“You hush,” Alyssa warned him, making you smile. “Now,” she looked between the two of you seriously, “I’m gonna go and try to salvage what I can of my grade, and you two need to play nice and get this issue ready for print and publishing.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said dryly, willing to do it but not willing to do it happily. Peter just nodded quickly, afraid to say anything that might actually get him kicked off the paper for good. 

Alyssa looked between the two of you again before giving you a look, and you knew she was promising to make up for this later at home. You just gave her a smile nod, a promise you’d be alright and she should just go. 

Be professional. You could do that. 

When Alyssa left, Peter turned to you. “Where do you want me Ace?”

“Over there.” You pointed to the half of the room Alyssa had been in charge of. “That was Alyssa’s half, you can take over now. There shouldn’t be much to do, articles are mostly written, things just need proofreading, editing, and we’re still figuring out the layout. If you have any questions, ask me, and if anyone’s being incompetent, they’re not kindergarteners. Don't be afraid to remind them of that.”

“Alright,” he nodded with a serious look on his face and you felt a little better knowing he was willing to be professional too. 

Peter scurried away, leaving you to tend to your half of the room. Your gaze fell to James’ empty desk beside yours. Alyssa had said she’d asked him to come in…was he really that pissed off? You contemplated sending him a text, telling him things were a little hectic and even if he was mad at you, he should still do his part as a member of this team. But that thought was quickly pushed away when Elijah approached you, your laptop in hand. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at you, handing you your laptop. 

You thanked him softly, looking at him with worried eyes. “So…how was it? I had Lyss proofread it before, but I’m scared she’s just being nice so—”

“No, no…” he shook his head with a small smile. “It was great, honestly. I don’t think you should change a thing, pretty sure you didn’t even make any grammar mistakes. I loved it, you made all the photos sound so beautiful. I think it’s really great, you know? You didn’t just write about the art, you understood it.”

Your heart melted a bit at his words. It was nice hearing that from someone who you didn’t split rent with, even if you did truly trust Alyssa’s judgment. “Thank you, Elijah. That means a lot.”

“Hey, no problem,” he shook his head, smiling at you. “Good luck with all of…” he glanced around the hectic newsroom, “this. And, truly, great paper Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Thanks for both those things.”

Elijah just nodded before making his way back to his desk. You looked down at your laptop, biting your lip as you looked at the open word document. Your first front page. Looking up, you glanced around the room to see if anyone needed anything then, when you caught Peter’s eye. 

He strode over to you in a few steps, making you raise a brow. “Need something?”

Peter shook his head, looking a little sheepish, “No, um… is—is that the article?” He pointed to the laptop in your heads.

“Yes…” you spoke slowly, still not grasping his point. 

“Can I read it?”

“What? No,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, come on, Ace. Why not? That dude just said it was great! I just wanna see for myself, even though I know it’s amazing. “

You shook your head, looking at him as if he were insane. “No chance, Peter. Now get back to work.”

“Not even a peek?” He gave you those sad puppy dog eyes, the same ones he used to give you those nights you’d kick him off of your fire escape he was begging for just ‘five more minutes’.

You almost wanted to give in, once upon a time you would have, but not now. You wouldn’t. “Not even a peek. You can read it when it’s published, now shoo.”

He sighed dramatically, making you bite back a smile. “You’re so cruel sometimes, Ace.”

You laughed. “Well, suck it up. How’re things going on your side?” Civilized. Professional. It was what you were trying to be despite the underlying tension between you two caused by almost two years of no contact, his sudden arrival, and everything that had happened between the two of you. Most recent being that talk in the park. 

“Oh, it’s good, I think.” He shrugged casually, looking back at his half of the room. “They seem to have a hang on things.”

You held back a laugh, staring at him with a raised brow, “Are you even doing anything or just walking around?”

Peter laughed softly. He was glad he was getting to talk to you like this after everything that had happened. He’d gotten the sense you were avoiding him after that morning in the park. You hadn’t been in the newsroom and he hadn’t seen you walking your usual routes around campus. He knew things weren’t okay, not by a long shot, but this was still a welcome reprieve. 

“Walking around is doing something. If anyone needs help, they can just…holler?”

You do laugh this time. “Holler? Seriously, Peter?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he grinned at you, your laugh making his heart skip a beat. “No one’s asked for help yet, but I’m making myself available to them. That’s what I meant to say.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, still smiling. It still shocked you how the two of you could compartmentalize and work together so well when things were so weird between you. “Well, I should…”

“Actually, I did need your help picking out some photos,” he blurted. He’d felt the conversation coming to a lull, and he didn’t want to stop talking to you just yet. “Just…just wait here.”

Peter held up a finger to you before making his way across the room, grabbing his laptop, and coming back. He pressed a few buttons before holding it out to face you. “I have some photos I need you to choose from. Some from the competition, others just fillers for the other articles and pages.”

“Okay,” you looked at the laptop in his hands before laughing in disbelief. “Oh my god, Peter! You still have this thing? How is it still alive?”

Peter laughed as well. It was true, he’d had that laptop since high school, and it was old back then. The two of you used to watch videos for school together on it and you’d joke that it was on its last breath. He was glad you remembered that. “Hey, no hating on Rusty. He does his job, and he does it well.”

A voice sounded from Peter’s side of the room. “Peter!”

You snorted and rolled your eyes, “Still using that dumb name.”

“It is not dumb.”

“It sounds like something you’d name a dog.”

“If I had a dog, I’d name it something way cooler.”

“Peter!!”

You turned to see who it was, and you saw Ryan waving at the two of you. Your eyes drifted back to Peter. “Um, I think you’re needed.”

“Forget him,” Peter shakes his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He didn’t want to end his short time with you. “He’s annoying, that’s just his thing.”

“Penis Parker!! Yoohoo!”

You laughed in surprise, having not heard that nickname since high school. “You told him about that?” 

Peter held back a groan. “Shit, I’m sorry Ace. Here,” he handed you his laptop, “I already have it pulled up, you just need to pick out what you think works and I’ll deal with the rest. I’ll be right back.” Holding up a finger, he walked away, leaving you with his computer. A second later, you heard his voice a couple feet away, “What the hell was that man?”

You smiled to yourself and took his laptop to your desk, starting to scroll through the photos. You hadn’t seen Peter’s photography in a long time (the competition did not count) and it felt oddly intimate going through his USB drive.

You’d always been a fan of Peter’s photography, not just because you were together, but because it’d always felt like getting a chance of getting to see the world through his eyes. And what an interesting way to see things. Who wouldn’t want to see the world through the eyes of the love of their life—Previous love of their life? 

This was no different, Peter had an accumulation of photos to choose from, both from the competition and not. It seemed he hadn’t just been competing that day. 

Just as you were selecting a few that you’d liked most, his computer crashed out of the file you were in, sending you back to the homepage with a little ‘error:’ notification. 

“Stupid computer,” you mutter, trying to open it back up to no avail. This thing was a piece of junk, you had no idea how he still got any work done on it. 

But just when you were about to call Peter over to reprimand him about his worthless piece of metal he called a computer, your eyes caught sight of file sitting leisurely on his homepage. 

“Ace♠️”

What? You thought Peter only used that nickname for you…if he called other people that, other girls, you were going to be sick. 

Before you could stop yourself, you were clicking on it. 

What you definitely weren’t expecting to see was every article you’d ever written for The Spectator saved. From your first shitty Kent Hall bathroom opening, to your latest one.

Your heart stuttered and your breathing hitched. He didn’t…did he? You clicked on the files, desperate to see when these had all been saved. But they all had different dates. They were either saved close to or the exact date these pieces had been published. Peter had been reading your writing while he was away. 

Your mind briefly wandered to that time you’d run into him outside the photography building, right after he’d gotten back. You’d told him about you getting the front page for the article on the photography competition and he told you he thought all your writing belonged on the front page. When you’d said he hadn’t read any of it, he’d just shook his head and said that wasn’t true. 

You’d just brushed it off and assumed he’d meant when he used to read your essays and projects in high school, but now….

What the fuck did this mean?

“Hey Ace, I’ll be right there!” Peter’s voice snapped you out of your inner turmoil. You clicked out of the file, quickly pulling the photos back up as Peter walked back up to you, standing before your desk ask grinning large. 

“So?” He asked, looking down at you expectantly.

Gaping, you floundered for words. “Uhh…yeah, yeah, mhmm…” you handed him the laptop again, pointing the ones you liked. “I think those—those ones—they should be good.”

“Alright,” he nodded, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Cool, thanks Ace. I’ll start working on those.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you said simply, hoping he’d just go. 

Peter’s eyes flicker up to you, a question in his eyes. “You good, ace?”

Fuck. “Yeah. Are you good, Parker?”

He faltered and made a face as if he were seriously thinking about your question, and it almost made you laugh. “Um…yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, great. Well, now that we’ve got that covered, you wanna go get those photos ready for publishing?”

“Sure, yeah. ‘Course,” he muttered, grabbing his laptop and turning away before he turned back to you again. “One last question, Ace.”

“Hmm?”

“When…when the paper comes out, where can I get a copy?”

“Umm…just about anywhere, really. Any of the libraries, the campus center, residence halls, they’re all over the place. And the digital version, of course…” He obviously knew about that one. 

“Right…okay, thanks.” He shot you an easy smile before walking back to the other side of the room. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to regain your composure. You’d been doing fine, you were focused on getting everything on track, fulfilling the job Alyssa had trusted you with, being professional. But of course, Peter Parker had to ruin that. 

Your eyes flickered back to James’ desk, and you felt a strange twinge in your heart. You had to check up on him, even if the two do you were in an argument. 

Pulling out your phone, you quickly pull up your text thread with him and sent a quick message asking how he was. It wasn’t really early in the day, so when you didn’t get a reply, well, you weren’t exactly worried, he was probably still upset with you and James was known to be petty, but you weren’t brushing it off either. 

So, you opened Instagram. Heading over to James’ profile specifically, you noticed he had something posted on his story. You clicked it and were shown a video of James in a crowded room lit up by strobe lights, chugging two beers at once. 

Of course. Here you were feeling guilty that he was so upset with you and what had happened between you two that he couldn’t bring himself to come in today. But no, in true James fashion, he’d just gotten wasted and was probably passed out in his apartment right now. While you were depending on him, while Alyssa was depending on him. 

You quickly shut off your phone and shoved in back in your bag. As soon as you were finished with your work here, you knew exactly where you were headed next.

You knocked strongly on the door, shifting on your feet as you waited for an answer. After a few moments, a disheveled looking James opened the door. He wasn’t wearing a shirt—just a pair of pajama shorts hung on his hips—and from the way he was rubbing his eyes, you were sure you’d just woken him up. 

“Hey babe,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy in a way that used to bring a smile to your face, but now it only served to irritate you. “What’s up?”

“Have you been asleep till now?” You asked. You tried to keep the irritation out of your voice, but it was hard. 

James only hummed in response, stretching out on his toes, lifting his arms above his head and letting out a soft groan. “Mmm…yeah, I went out with the boys last night. We got wrecked.”

The grin on his face made you scoff. Pushing past him, you stepped into his apartment. You peered through the doorway that led to the living room and saw a friend of his crashed on the couch, one whose name you couldn’t remember. You turned back towards James, who had shut the door and was standing there, as if waiting for you to finish whatever it was that brought you here so he could go back to sleep. 

“You have classes today, don’t you?”

“Eh, it’s fine. I’ll grab the notes from someone else or something.” He brushed you off with a wave of his hand. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I get to class?”

You might’ve laughed if he hadn’t looked so annoyed. “No, I came over to see why you didn’t come into the paper today.”

James made a face as if that were the most ridiculous thing you could’ve said. “The paper? Seriously, babe?”

“Yes, seriously James. The place was a mess today, we were down like five members and we could’ve really used your help! Alyssa said she asked you to come in.”

“I haven’t checked my phone,” he rolled his eyes, “and besides, I’m sure Lyss will understand—”

“It’s not about Lyss understanding, James. It’s about you being fucking responsible enough to be trusted to do your job. In a position you signed up for, no less.”

“The fuck is your problem Y/N,” he sneered in a way that made you see red. “So I didn’t come in today, whatever.”

“No, it’s not ‘whatever’, James. God…” you ran a hand through your hair and exhaled exasperatedly. Was this really something that warranted an argument? No, not to you. Because James should know his responsibilities, you shouldn’t have to remind him.

“You have responsibilities, James.” You said slowly. The last thing you needed was another argument. 

All you got from that were narrowed eyes in your direction. “Like I need my girlfriend reminding me what the fuck my responsibilities are.”

You didn’t know the word “girlfriend” could be made to sound so close to a slur. “Look James, I’m not trying to be controlling, or annoying—”

“Really?” He rolled his eyes, “well you’re sure succeeding.”

You bit your tongue. Raising your voice right now and arguing wouldn’t do either of you any good, and you wouldn’t be able to get your point across. But hell…you’d be lying if you said you weren’t even a little angry. Normally, you brushed off James’ partying and drinking, he was a college student after all, and just because you weren’t really into that didn’t mean you expected him to be the same. But when it affected his school work, his work on the paper, his relationship with you, and he was being this resilient to change, not even giving you a chance to speak. Yeah, now you had a right to be upset. 

“James, you know I never really care that you want to go party, more power to you. But it isn’t right when you let down the people who were counting on you, when you hurt others and yourself, too. How many times can you miss class before it starts to affect your grade? You just—”

“Oh my fucking god,” he grumbled under his breath, sighing deeply and running a hand through. “You fucking woke me up for this shit? To talk about my ‘grades’ and the fucking paper?”

“Why is it so bad that I wanted your help with something you signed up for?!” you asked in disbelief. 

James shook his head, his gaze fixed on the wall, refusing to meet your eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

You narrow your eyes at him, wanting to argue, wanting to push back, when you realize…you don’t have to. You didn’t have to constantly go through this with him, over and over, ending one argument just to start another. You didn’t have to roll over and accept the way he was speaking to you. 

A relationship should be a bonus—something that lifts you up, not weighs you down. A person who understood you, respected you, and leveled with you. 

Not… whatever this was. 

You’d been scared to admit it to yourself since Peter came into the picture, you worried how it might look if you chose to end things with James after your ex came back into town.

But the truth was even before Peter came back, there’d been things about James that hadn’t sat right with you. The way he blew off your plans so easily to go hang out with his friends, the way he seemed to want to be upset with you sometimes. It never really felt right, that time during winter break you’d specifically declined meeting his parents and him meeting yours, and he’d showed up at your house anyway, giving you no choice. Sometimes, he just brushed off your opinions or concerns as if your thoughts meant nothing to him. As if you meant nothing. 

Yeah, he’d been charming at first. Complimented your writing. Your looks. Said all the right things. But looking back, that was just it: he’d talked. And once he had you, the effort stopped.

He’d enjoyed the chase, you realized. You’d come to college not expecting, or even wanting, to date anyone after everything that had happened with Peter. And James loved a challenge. 

Well, you weren’t just someone to be caught and forgotten. 

“We’re done.” Not a waver or quiver in your voice.

He blinked. A flicker of confusion cracked his indifference.

“What’d you just say?”

Oh. You realized that he really hadn’t expected you to go there. 

“You heard me,” you said simply, shrugging your shoulder. “If you have anything at my place, I’ll bring it over or have Alyssa do it.” 

You had never really stayed over at his apartment. Strangers always crashing, red flags all over, it made you uncomfortable. You’d told him as much the one and only time he’d ask why you didn’t sleep over, and he’d done nothing to change it. With a small flicker of embarrassment for yourself, you realized you’d never expected him to. In all honesty, you’d never expected much from James at all. Which made the small moments you had, and he’d still managed to let you down all the more recognizable.

James shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. It almost made you laugh how confused he was. It really wasn’t that unbelievable. “You can’t just do that. You can’t just break up with me.”

“Um…yes I can.” You said simply, stepping back towards the door, your hand falling on the knob.

“Is this about that fucking Parker guy?” He asked, his eyes darkening. Gone was the shock.

But you just rolled your eyes. “No, James, believe it or not, I’m not breaking up with you to get back with Peter. I’m doing it because you’re kind of a piece of shit.” You opened the door. “So rest assured—there’s no ulterior motive. This one’s all on you.”

And with that, you left.

The shopping ban you and your father had bestowed upon your mom didn’t last very long, so it didn’t surprise you when you’d gotten a call from her on Friday telling you’d she’d gotten ‘a cute little bookshelf that would look perfect in your apartment’ and that you should come over to pick it up, and since you’d already be there, you may as well spend the weekend. 

Part of you wondered whether this was just a little scheme she’d conjured up to get you to spend more time at home, but you didn’t really mind. You wanted to get away for a bit.

You hadn’t told anyone about your breakup with James, not yet at least. The only person who knew about it so far was Alyssa. She’d told you that, while she’d absolutely been cheering for you two in the beginning, this was a decision she completely supported and understood.

“He’s been acting like a fucking idiot lately. Honestly, I think you held out too long, Y/N.”

“You’re still his friend too, Lyss.”

“Yeah right, the little fucker was only using me last year to get to you. But at least we got something useful out of him when he helped us move in. From now on, I’m just his editor. Unless…I can always fire him if you want.”

“Alyssa.”

You weren’t sure why exactly you brought it up to anyone. You just didn’t want it to be a big deal where people tiptoed around you and tried to get you to be sad. Because honestly…you weren’t upset, not at all. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, like you’d been blindfolded and put in a strange room, only for the blindfold to fall off and for you to realize you were just outside, walking in a clear, green, flower-filled park. 

Part of you felt bad for feeling so relieved. A bigger part of you couldn’t care less. 

You’d cared for James for a brief moment. There was a small window where he actually felt kind of like a boyfriend. But that didn’t last long, and it didn’t hit you how incompatible you were until you’d left his apartment the other day. James was never the kind of guy you saw yourself with in the long-run, and he wasn’t even that great of a short-run if you were being honest with yourself. 

It was alright the first time he’d come over to your place after a long night of getting wasted with his friends, but after that, it had just started to feel like a chore. You’d help him, but only because you felt obligated to. You were his girlfriend, after all. 

And while you didn’t have much experience in that department, you’d still felt it was kind of your responsibility. You’d helped Peter with plenty of things when the two of you were together. 

But it was different with him, you’d never felt like it was a job you had to fulfill when he’d come home after a particularly bad night, bruised and cut up and you’d bandage him. It didn’t annoy you when the two of you had gone to one of Flash’s house parties and Peter had gotten drunk for the very first time. 

It wasn’t an obligation to help him, to care for him, to love him. You just did. And you hadn’t really realized that not every relationship would be like that until you were with James. Even then, you hadn’t let yourself think that way or compare the two, but now you didn’t care.

You never loved James, not really. Not the way that you had loved Peter. And you knew James had never loved you, not the way Peter had loved you. 

Had.

The thought sent a pang of hurt through your chest.

And then there was the Peter Parker of it all…

You couldn’t deny the fact that part of why you were so reluctant to share the news of yours and James’ separation was because of him. You weren’t sure how he’d react. Or even worse, you had an inkling, and you couldn’t let that happen. 

That morning in the park Peter had more or less admitted that the reason for his transfer was you, and while once upon a time that would’ve thrown you over the moon, not anymore. You couldn’t deny the facts. 

He had left. He had made promises, and he had broken them. 

Him thinking that your breakup with James was the green light he’d been waiting for since he’d gotten there, and just forgetting all the pain and heartbreak he’d caused was something you didn’t want. Not yet, at least. He’d find out soon enough, but you’d cross that bridge when you got to it. 

So now you were back home, watching TV alone, when then was a knock at the door. Standing, you made your way over and opened it without checking the peephole, automatically thinking it was just your parents.

Wrong.

“Hey Ace, how’s it going?” Peter asked with a small smile. The door behind him, the one to his and May’s apartment, was pushed open and the scene, him standing here before you, calling you by that name, in this building where you two had connected, had loved, was so familiar it made everything down to your blood cells stutter in your body. 

How many times had you crossed over this small hallway and into that apartment, how many times had you opened the door to a greeting just like that one? Too many to count, before it had all abruptly come to a stop. 

“It’s going fine. What’s up with you, Parker? You need something?” Your tone is cool, collected, not letting on how hard the nostalgia had just hit you.

“No…no, I’m good, I think. May did ask me to tell you something, though.” Peter shifted on his feet. He was tempted to stick a foot in the doorway just to make sure you wouldn’t slam it in his face.

“Oh? And what's that?” You raised an inquisitive brow at him and watched him stutter. 

“W-well she just—you remember when I said she would love to have you over for dinner? She heard your parents were out and wanted me to ask if you wanted to come over.”

“Really? She wanted you to ask?”

“No…I mean yes! Yes,” he scrunched his eyes shut, shaking his head and looking down, “I don’t know why I said that.”

You glanced down at the watch on your wrist. It was getting late and your parents weren’t back yet, you were sure they’d stop at some restaurant to grab their dinner. And you did miss May…

“I could just order takeout,” you said with a small shrug. “I don’t wanna bother you two or anything.”

Peter’s face fell. “No! No, please. We—I mean, May would really love to have you over. Please?” He added, a little quieter this time.

You shifted on your feet, your hand gripping the door a little tighter. Was this really a good idea?

“I’d have to change out of my pajamas,” you said quietly, gesturing down to yourself, clad in a hoodie and sweatpants. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He grinned at you as if that was exactly what he had been hoping you’d say. 

Fighting off a smile, you shut the door and made your way to your bedroom. A simple sweater and jeans would suffice, but you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Dinner with Peter and May. That was something you hadn’t had in years. You’d almost forgotten what it entailed. 

When you made your way across the hall, the door was already open a crack. You knocked anyway and heard the unmistakable sound of May Parker. “Come on in, sweetheart! Peter, I told you to leave it open, did you leave it—”

“I swear I left it open, May!”

“Are you sure?”

“He did,” you said softly, padding into their apartment. “I just…thought I’d knock anyway.”

May grinned at the sound of your voice, dropping the small pan in her hand onto the counter before bounding over to you and wrapping her arms around you tight. “Oh, honey, I’ve missed you.”

You grinned, holding her back just as tight, “I’ve missed you too.”

She pulled away, smiling happily, before she turned back toward Peter, who stood to the side, leaning against the counter. “Peter, honey, fridge. Now.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and you watched as Peter quickly grabbed a white square shaped box, and carried it to the fridge to store inside.

“Is that…dinner?” You asked, glancing up at May.

“Oh no, honey,” May laughed and placed a hand on your shoulder, leading you to the small table in the corner, one you ate at multiple times. But not for a while now. 

“Come on, take a seat. Peter and I will start bringing things over.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t let her cook!” Peter called from the other side of the kitchen. 

You brought your hand to your mouth to stifle your laugh, not wanting to hurt May’s feelings, though it was all in good fun and she knew it. 

May walked back into the kitchen, grabbed a towel off the counter and lightly flick it at Peter’s back. He let out an exaggerated yelp, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing his hands up to cover his head. “Mercy! Mercy!”

May rolled her eyes and you let out a soft laugh. You watched them as they worked together, placing the takeout food on plates and bowls before placing them on the table before you. The familiarity was so intense, a longing fulfilled after so much time, it was almost unsettling.

It felt something like a dream when they both sat down at the table. Like a weird sense of déjà vu. But things were different now, Peter had spent two years away, you’d gone to Columbia, and you had a new boyfriend—

No, you didn’t. 

And they didn’t know that. 

You looked down at your plate, reaching for the cup of water they’d placed before you and taking a sip just to have something to do.

“Here honey,” May murmurs, scooping some food onto your plate, “we ordered from that Thai place you love.”

Your heart warmed at her words. “The one with the rice rolls?”

“And the green curry,” Peter finished with a nod. That had always been your order every time you two ate together. 

His eyes were on you, it seemed they had been since you’d set foot in their apartment. But for you, you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him for more than a few seconds before finding something else to look at. It was a little more difficult now that you and James had broken up. Even if Peter didn’t know. 

You had tried to tell yourself it meant nothing, that your breakup with James would’ve happened whether Peter was back or not…and maybe that was a true. It was probably true. But it didn’t change the fact that Peter had almost definitely sped up that process. 

“That’s…that’s, amazing you guys, thank you.” And although your words were intended for a group, your eyes and your smile were for May. 

‘Anytime, sweetheart,” she said with her own smile. “You’re welcome here anytime, you know that. Honestly, you should start coming over more, Peter here has been hounding me day and night to ask you to come ov—”

A loud, forced cough cut through the air and both you and May’s eyes fell on Peter, whose cheeks were turning a pretty shade of pink. 

You eyed him for a moment, watched as he gave May an exasperated look and a shake of his head. You wondered if he thought you wouldn’t notice. 

“Well…” you said softly, turning back to May, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Oh, anytime honey.” She said with a wide grin. Something told you she had no problem exposing Peter like she had. 

And so the dinner went on, Peter eventually reeling from his earlier embarrassment and joining in on the conversation. It was fun, not that you hadn’t thought it would be, but you hadn’t expected how easy it would be to fall back into old roles, old memories. 

Peter and May made you laugh, you made them laugh. Stories spilled, jokes were made, and you even found yourself joking around with Peter alone. 

It was natural. Too natural, maybe.

At one point, he bumped your foot under the table, and when you looked up, he gave you that crooked grin you hadn’t realized you remembered so well. It did something strange to your chest. Not painful exactly—just... familiar.

May excused herself to get dessert, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of you again.

“You still eat like a kid,” you said, sipping your drink with a smirk.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“You do. Your side of the table is a mess, and don’t think I didn’t notice you picking out all the carrots on your plate.”

His face went red again. “Okay…I don’t like carrots. But you knew that already.”

It was true, you did know that. In fact, he’d used to pick them out onto your plate because you enjoyed them and you always got on him about being wasteful. 

He smiled, but the moment lingered longer than it should’ve, like they were both waiting for the next unspoken thing. Like they were still suspended in that strange space between what they’d had and whatever this was now.

And it scared you a little, how easy it would be to fall right back in.

“Okay! Peter, will you bring her to the living room?” May’s voice rang out through the apartment. 

“Come on,” Peter stood and held a hand out to you. To both your surprises, you took it. 

He led you to the living room where May stood beside the coffee table, hands clasped together as she grinned at you wide. She made a flourishing gesture with her hands and that was when your eyes fell to the table beside her. 

That white square shaped box you’d seen Peter carrying when you’d first arrived was sitting there, lid open. A cake that read “Congrats on the front page!” lay inside. 

Peter nudged your side. “Congrats, Ace.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes before looking over at May again. “Petey mentioned that your article on the photography competition was on the front page! And your first one ever! Of course, we had to celebrate our girl!”

You smiled at her, your heart absolutely melting at the sweetness of their actions, especially the term ‘our girl.’ You rushed over, pulling her into a hug, which she happily reciprocates. “Thank you,” you murmured softly, “this is so…so sweet. Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me, it was—” she cuts herself off and you pull away just in time to see her eyes fixed over your shoulder before settling on you. “It was no problem, we’re—I’m so proud of you.”

“Where’s Peter’s cake?” You asked, turning back to look at Peter, who still stood where you’d left him, his hand that’d been holding yours briefly was now shoved in his pocket.

“What do you mean, Ace?”

“I mean, you’re the one who won the whole competition, that a pretty big deal. We should celebrate that too.”

You watched his expression soften before he shook his head, walking closer to you with that cocky grin on his face. “Maybe, but your article really brought my piece to life. Maybe you can do a live reading for us—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off, shaking your head quickly. 

“No? Well, that’s okay, I’m sure I can find the link for it online…” he trails off, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Oh. Well, he certainly has a knack for reading my articles online, you thought. 

“Nope,” you said simply, swiping his phone out of his hand before he could protest. 

“Oh, come on,” he said with an enormous grin. “May has been dying to read it, she was really hoping you’d read it aloud for us.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, you can just lend her one of many copies I’m sure you have in your room.” Or share the link he almost definitely had saved in that old rust bucket he still called a computer. 

Peter’s eyes widened just a fraction before they narrowed at you, and there was no mistaking the flush blooming on his cheeks. “You…I—I don’t have any.”

You look at him with an amused expression. “Peter,” you said slowly, “it was a joke.”

He seemed to let out a breath of relief, and a smile bloomed on his face. “Ha-ha, very funny, Ace.”

May, who’d been watching you both with a smile, thought it might be best if she excused herself for a bit. Just a little while. “Peter,” she gestured to the dessert, “be a dear and cut the girl some cake.”

Peter nodded, quickly moving to grab a plate from the ones she’d set out, and a cake knife. May turned to you with an apologetic smile, “I’m just gonna be one second, dear. I have to make a quick phone call for something to do with the community center, It’s kind of important. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you said with a smile, “go ahead. We’ll get your plate ready.”

She gave your cheek a quick peck, pulling away with a smile before heading into her bedroom. You sat back on the couch just as Peter approached with two plates of cake. 

“For the lady,” he murmured as he handed you your plate, falling deep into a bow before falling down beside you as you laughed.

As much as he had hurt you and as easy as it was for him to piss you off, it was becoming clearer and clearer to you since he’d returned; you could never truly hate Peter Parker. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking a bite of cake. Your favorite flavor. Of course it was.

“‘Course,” he said simply, shoveling a large forkful of his own piece into his mouth. “You are an award-winning journalist, after all.”

“‘Award-winning?’” You asked with a laugh. “Since when? Do you know something I don’t, Parker?”

He looked at you seriously. “You mean, other than the fact that there is definitely a Pulitzer Prize in your future? No, no, I don’t think I do.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. Even now, he still had all this faith in you. “So I take it you liked the article?”

“Liked it? Ace, I loved it.”

The complete and utter sincerity was almost enough to bring you to tears, and you had to take another bite of cake to make sure that didn’t happen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His tone never wavered, and his eyes never left your face. “and I don’t just mean the part where you’re talking about me or my piece, I mean all of it. The way you described the photos, the art, the visions and messages all those people were trying to share…it was beautiful. I’ve never read anything like it and I think it’s so awesome that this is just the start of what’s going to be a very successful career.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze from his. It was just too intense, his words, the eye contact… 

“But, of course, my favorite part was where you spoke about my piece.” He said easily, eat another bite of cake. 

You couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped you. He always had a knack for comforting you whenever things felt like too much, whether directly or not. “I’m sure it was.”

The two of you fell into comfortable silence and you couldn’t help the small nagging voice in your head. Maybe you shouldn’t say anything…but you really wanted to know…

“Hey,” you said suddenly, bringing your feet up onto the couch and folding them under you as you adjusted your body to face him more, “you remember the other day when we were working on the paper, and you gave me your computer to pick some photos?”

“Mhm,” Peter hummed, looking up at you as he shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth. Frosting coated his lips and the surrounding areas and it was surprisingly hard not to just lean in and kiss it clean. He was adorable. 

You swallowed and looked away, ridding the thought from your head. “Well, your ratchet, dusty old computer—”

“No hating on rusty.”

“—it crashed, and I…I found a file.”

Peter paused. Slowly, he lowered the plate to his lap, leaning over to grab a napkin from the table, wiping his face, before facing you again. “Oh? What kind of file?”

“Porn.” 

You shook your head as soon as the word left your mouth, you and Peter both falling into giggles. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, that was so lame, but it was right there.”

Peter shook his head, a large grin on his face. “No, totally fair. But I do think that if it were porn, you wouldn’t be bringing this up right now, hm?”

“No, I wouldn’t be,” you said softly, shaking your head.

“So…?”

“Well…the only reason I even clicked it was cause it had my name on it, literally, not some metaphorical bullshit, I just want you to know that.”

He knew, of course. “And?” He asked, still looking at you.

You paused for a moment, letting your eyes trace over his expression. He didn’t seem offended you’d been (not really, but really) snooping, he didn’t seem embarrassed to have been caught. He just looked…normal, as if to say, “what else did you expect?”

“And…you were keeping up with my writing? While you were away?”

“Is that a question, Ace? I thought you saw the file?”

“No…no, I saw. And I always saw that they were each downloaded pretty close to the day they were released.”

“Well, forgive me for keeping up with my favorite writer,” he teased, but his voice was soft. Sincere. 

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to that. So you inhaled through your nose and sat back against the couch, facing the TV. You could feel Peter beside you doing the same.

“It wasn’t that difficult finding them, you know. They’re one of the top searches when someone searches your name.”

“Oh…I didn’t know that.” You mused quietly. So he’d googled you.

“Did you ever…I don’t know, look me up?”

Easy answer. 

“No.” You said bluntly

The two of you turned at the same time, meeting each other’s eyes before bursting into laughs. 

When you’d calmed down a bit, you looked back over at him. “Why? What would I have found?”

“Oh, nothing worthwhile.” He’d answered too easily. And you knew that wasn’t true. It seemed you had plans for tonight. 

“Oh, I’m sure.” You said with a small eye roll, taking another bite of cake. 

“I meant it, you know,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving your face. “You are my favorite writer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I’m not sure you read enough for that claim to have any weight behind it.”

Peter just grinned, “Oh, but I mean it, Ace.”

Of course he did. 

“Thank you,” you murmured quietly. 

“You don’t need to thank me, I’ve always thought your writing was—”

“That’s not what I meant. I was talking about this,” you gestured to the cake, the frosting message that’d been written on it cut off due to the missing slices. “It was…really sweet of you, thank you.”

Peter was quiet for once, taking a moment before he spoke up again. “You…you already thanked May.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “but I didn’t thank you. And I know it was your idea.”

He paused, his eyes fixed on his lap, and this time, you were the one who kept your eyes on him. After a few moments, he looked up. “That obvious?”

You scrunched up your nose and nodded. “Little bit, yeah.”

He laughed softly. “Well, you can’t blame me. It absolutely is worth celebrating. And you never mentioned having plans or something with James or Lyss, or anyone else, so I…”

You swallowed hard at the mention of James, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at his words. If anyone knew how much this meant to you, it was Peter. “Well, it means a lot, really.”

“You know, despite the fact that we aren’t…you know,” he swallowed hard, as if it physically hurt him to say that, “but we were friends first, and I remember. I know how hard you’ve worked for this, how much you’ve wanted it. And I’m glad to be here for it.”

“I’m…I’m glad you’re here too.” Barely a whisper, but so much more. The kindest words you’d given him since he’d return. Not forgiveness, no, it’d take a lot more to get there, but an acknowledgement. An appreciation of your friendship before everything, the connection you two shared, one you’d probably never find with anyone else. 

His gaze never faltered from yours and you could tell by the look on his face how much your words had effected him. His eyes were like two windows into that mind you used to know like the back of your hand. And, sometimes, you thought you still could. 

Which was why you leaned away and cleared your throat. Your eyes fell to the empty plate in his hands. “Um…do you want me to get you another slice?”

He looked down at the plate in his hands as if just realizing it was there. Shaking his head, he reached for your plate as well, “Don’t worry about it, you’re the guest of honor. I can get it.” 

As he leaned over to reach the cake, he caught sight of the untouched plate he’d gotten ready for his aunt. With furrowed brows, he looked back at you over his shoulder. “Hey, where’d May run off to?”

“Oh,” you waved a hand, “said she had to call someone or something for the community center. She went into her room.”

Peter gave you a quizzical look, making you raise a brow at him. “What?” You asked.

“Her phone’s right there, Ace.” He pointed to the edge of the coffee table where, sure enough, May’s phone sat tauntingly.

Your mouth fell open in disbelief and your eyes flicked to her closed bedroom door. That little…

“Liar,” you hissed, making Peter laugh. “She said it was important!”

“I’m sure she thinks whatever’s going on out here is more important.” He snickered. 

“Not funny, Peter!”

“You know,” he mused thoughtfully, “this might be the only time she’s ever happily left us alone.”

You flushed at the thought. It was true, when the two of you had been together, both your parents and May had made the rules about hanging out way stricter, and they’d always been lurking around, never leaving the two of you alone and out of sight for long.

“I wonder if she—”

The sound of a door opening cut Peter off, making both your heads turn. May stood there grinning widely. 

“Hey! Sorry, these people are so incompetent. I mean, how hard is it to understand where to leave an order, am I right? Did you save me some cake?”

You and Peter exchanged a glance before erupting into laughter. 

Contrary to popular belief, being Spider-Man was a stress reliever for Peter. Of course, it had its more than stressful moments. But often times when things were getting rough in his personal life he held onto the fact that he got to swing around the city (North Carolina was fine, but it was nothing compared to New York) and help the people who needed him. It felt good to be needed. 

Nothing quite beat the feeling he got when he returned a lost child to his terribly worried parents, or when he helped rescue a girl who was stuck in burning building, her father waiting for her eagerly down on the street. It often times made him wonder how he would feel if it were his loved ones in peril. If it were Ned, or MJ, or May. Or you. 

He never thought he’d have to find out. 

Until today. 

It was like any other day, and when he thought about that later it would make him sick to his stomach how something so terrible could happen and the world would go on. How there would be no signs. 

He had been swinging around downtown Manhattan. It was a peaceful afternoon in New York, full of people just bustling around as they enjoyed the nice weather, and Peter was still riding the high of dinner with you last night. How it’d felt like the two of you had really connected, like he might just have a shot at earning your forgiveness. He kept thinking about how good it felt to have you back at his place with him and May, how natural it was. 

Maybe he was too stuck in his head, daydreaming and reminiscing, and that was the problem.

Early evening traffic was just beginning, the roads and crosswalks full of people trying to get back to their homes. 

He should’ve been faster.

He should’ve noticed it sooner. Something. Anything.  

Shooting a web toward the nearest lamppost, Peter hauled himself onto a low, nearby roof and crouched on the edge. “So Karen, what’ve we got today?”

“There seems to be some commotion on the Brooklyn Bridge, cars are piling up. Cause of commotion is unknown.”

Peter’s brows furrowed and he was immediately springing into action. Bridges were a terrible place for accidents to take place, they were crowded, and far too many times he’d saved someone from sliding past the broken railings and into the waters. 

Sure enough, when he got there Peter could see that this was no exception. The bridge was packed, overflowing with vehicles and people rushing out of their cars. It was worse than the usually New York traffic. He swung down quickly, planting himself on the ground with the others and started ushering them out quickly.

“This way ma’am….It’s alright sir, just keep walking….Oh, buddy,” there was a kid cowering in an all too familiar way behind a car, so Peter reached out a hand, watching as the kid looking up at him, something like awe shining in his wide eyes. When he’d grabbed hold of Peter’s hand, he gently pulled him over and lifted him up onto his shoulders. “You see anyone you know?”

The little boy looked around, unsure, before his face lit up and he was pointing eagerly. “O-over there! My dad!”

“Alright,” Peter huffed, fighting his way through the crowd to the panicked looking man who was stock-still in the feverish crowd. 

“Dad! Dad!” The kid waved his arms frantically, and somehow over all the ruckus, the man heard him. Peter could see the relief flooding his face as he raced over to the two of them, reaching up and scooping the little boy into his arms. “Daddy! Spider-Man saved me!”

'Thank you so much,” the father’s voice was choked and Peter merely shook his head.

“It’s what I do, sir. And you, kiddo,” Peter leaned down to the little boy, “stick with your dad, yeah?”

The kid nodded quickly and Peter ruffled his hair before shooting a web and lifting himself onto the tower of the bridge, he still hadn’t seen what all the ruckus was about…

It was obvious what the ruckus was all about. There had been a pile up at the end of the bridge and from what he could see, it was bad. At least four cars were completely flipped over, another was on fire, and…no. 

No no no.

He knew that car, and worse, who was most definitely in it. He should’ve realized it sooner, the whole reason you were back in Queens for the weekend was to pick up some furniture to bring back to your apartment. You’d told him you were going to be driving back to school. He should’ve known, should’ve realized.

But now he was watching your car hang off the broken railing. The sight made every single cell in his body freeze for a split second. Were you still in it? Had you gotten out like some of the other civilians? He wasn’t going to wait around to find out. 

Peter flung out his wrist, hauling himself over as quickly as he could. He stopped beside the car and he could see you clearly through the window, your eyes shut, head laying on the steering wheel, blood dripping from your hairline. 

Peter was going to be sick. 

He had to get himself together. But just as he was snapping himself out of his fight, flight, or freeze (where he was currently frozen) moment, the car that had been up in flames blew up, sending your car flying off the rail, Peter close behind you.

“No!” He shot one web and caught himself before flinging his other hand towards your car, his web sticking to the bumper. He lifted himself up before bracing his feet on the concrete and pulling you up with every ounce of strength in his body. 

He was panting by the time he had your car planted back on the road, but he didn’t feel tired at all. The exact opposite. He rushed over to the drivers’ side and yanked the door open. You were still there, limp in the car seat, and the blood around your hairline was more than he remembered it, dripping down onto your cheek. He winced at the thought that he might’ve had something to do with that. 

“Ace, honey, can you hear me?” He leaned in, hovering over you, and patted your cheek. “Baby come on, open those pretty eyes for me.” It wasn’t until he went to wrap an arm around your waist so he could pull you out did he notice the awkward angle at which your arm was bent. 

Peter hissed at the sight. He hated seeing you so broken, so hurt. This wasn’t how you were supposed to be. You were supposed to be rolling your eyes at him, making fun of him for everything he did, not this. 

“C’mon Ace, just tell me you can hear. Give me something sweetheart.” He kept murmuring words in your ear as he slowly worked you out of your seatbelt and lifted you carefully, mindful of your injuries. 

“Hey!” Peter kept an arm around your waist as he waved the other around at the paramedics who were starting to flood the scene.

Two middle aged men rolled over a gurney and quickly got you out of Peter’s hold. He knew it was the right thing to do but it almost made him angry. He needed to hold you, to make sure you were there. But you needed help right now, and that was more important than anything. 

So he let you go, trailing after the two men. “She hit her head, pretty sure she’s got a concussion. Something’s wrong with her arm too.”

“Thank you for your help,” one of the medics said to him, “we’ll take it from here.”

But he didn’t go. Peter followed them as they rolled you into the ambulance, desperately wanting to just step in and stay by your side.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked quietly. 

The medic turned to look at him, as if surprised he was still there, and he knew why. If this were anyone else, Peter would’ve just trusted the medics and swung away to see where else he was needed. But this wasn’t just anyone. 

This was you. 

The love of his life. 

The first thing he thought about when he woke up and the last thing before he slept, and in all the in-between moments. The only person he saw a future with. The person whose forgiveness he still had to earn. And you were unconscious in the back of an ambulance. 

So he wasn’t leaving, not yet. Not until they slammed the doors in his face and drove off. 

“We’ll do what we can,” the man said to him seriously. Peter recognized it for what it was, a carefully worded non-answer. They still didn’t know the full extent of your injuries and they weren’t about to give him false hope. 

Peter stood there silently as the medic slammed the back doors of the ambulance shut, catching one more glimpse at your face. The ambulance drove off, sirens blaring, and it took him a few minutes to fully gather himself. 

He had to finish his job here, if anything, so he could make it back to you faster. 

The next hour or so was hell for Peter. He’d had to stick around and help sort out the mess on the bridge when all he really wanted to do was get in that ambulance with you and follow you to the hospital and everywhere after that. 

He’d never felt so obligated to help people before, it was just something he’d always done, something he was happy to do. But not now. Every person, every accident, was just something holding him back from finally rushing over to that hospital to see you. 

But finally, it was over. People were safe again, all the injured had been helped out or taken by paramedics if it was severe, police were trying to figure out how to clear the scene. His job as Spider-Man was over for now. He finally got to be Peter Parker. 

The trip to the hospital was a blur for him. He was swinging furiously, only stopping in a deserted alleyway to change out of his suit before he was running through those doors. He found a nurse who he begged pretty pathetically to let him see you. Fortunately, she was kind enough to look you up in the system. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see you just yet. 

So now, Peter was sitting anxiously in a waiting room, waiting for any news that might come of you. He’d called May and both your parents to tell them what had happened (leaving out the Spider-Man part when he was speaking to your parents). He’d even called Alyssa, whose number he’d had to get from one of the photographers from the paper. 

But it didn’t take long for him to finish off with the phone calls, leaving him alone with his thoughts. And so the spiral started. He didn’t know how badly you were hurt. What if it was worse than what he could see back on the bridge? What if you were permanently hurt? Or worse...

No. He couldn’t go down that road. That was never going to happen, he wouldn’t let it. He didn’t care what he had to do. Hell, he’d give you his heart if you needed it. Just as long as you were okay. 

There was still so much left unsaid between you two, so much he regretted. That morning in the park had barely scratched the surface of it all. He had to tell you about all the horrible parties his roommate had dragged him to, all the jokes and stories he’d made sure to try to remember just so he could share them with you the next time he saw you, all the new constellations he’d spent hours reading about just in hopes of sharing them with you when he saw you again. 

Peter had no clue how long he’d spent sitting in that waiting room, his leg bouncing up and down quickly. If you’d asked him, he would’ve said over ten hours, for sure. Realistically, he knew that wasn’t true. But that was how long it felt until that sweet old nurse was walking up to him again.

He stood as soon as he caught sight of her, anxiously wringing his hands. “How is she? Is she alright? Is she awake, can I see her?”

The nurse shot him a small smile, “She’s gonna be just fine. Poor thing’s a little beat up, but everything should heal over time. She’s not awake, she’s on a lot of medication, but you can see her if you’d like.”

Peter almost felt to the ground in relief. He nodded so quickly he was almost surprised his head didn’t snap off. “Yes, please. Where is she?”

“Just down there,” she pointed down the hall. “Second door on the right.”

He was walking off before she’d even finished talking. He didn’t want to be rude, truly, but all he cared about was seeing you. He reached the door to your room and slowly pushed it open. 

The first thing that hit him was the smell, the reek of antiseptic was so strong his nostrils burned. 

And then he saw you.

Maybe he should’ve waited a little longer. This…this was like a knife to the heart. 

He’d never seen you look so frail, so fragile. Your skin was so much paler than normal, missing that usual glow you always carried around, one he loved. A large white bandage covered your hairline where he’d seen all that blood earlier, and he could already see some redness where it was starting to seep through. The machines and tubes around you made you look smaller, the endless beeping of the heart monitor was both reassuring and taunting at the same time. 

Reassuring because he’d gotten to you in time, you were alive. 

Taunting because he couldn’t have stopped you from getting hurt in the first place. 

He could see your arm wrapped up in a cast and the sight broke his heart his heart all over again. Taking a step, he managed to get his legs working enough to make his way towards a seat beside your bed. 

“Hey Ace,” he murmured, taking your other hand and bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. He knew of course that you couldn’t hear him, but that didn’t matter. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I could’ve helped you sooner, that I could’ve gotten there sooner.” Peter bowed his head and sniffled. He hadn’t gotten a chance to take all of this in seriously. You could’ve died. 

“I’m sorry for everything, Ace. Not just today. Everything. I’ve been such an asshole but I swear to you, I promise that if you give me a chance, I’m gonna make it all up to you. Even if you have a boyfriend, I—”

“Who has a boyfriend?”

Peter’s head shot up in surprise when he heard your raspy voice. Your eyes were half-shut, squinting against the bright light of the hospital room. He sat up straighter and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey Ace, how ya feeling?”

You grimaced and shook your head. “Weird.”

He smiled at that. The nurse had told him you were on some heavy medication and he could clearly tell. “Yeah, I bet. You got in a little accident honey.”

Turning your head on the pillow, you looked over at him with wide, hazy eyes. He hadn’t realize just how exhausted you looked, but right then, it was all he could see. “It was s-so scary, Petey. T-there was a…a car, and it hit my car, then something else hit my car, a-and—“

“Shh,” he murmured softly, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. His fingers lingered on your face, tracing the skin where he’d seen blood earlier. If he had to hear how scared you were he was scared he would vomit. “It’s alright, Ace. You’re okay and that’s all that matters right now. I got you out, you’re okay. The doctors are gonna help you, okay? And I’m gonna be right here the whole time.”

You shut your eyes and nodded, leaning into touch and he almost wanted to cry. He knew you would never be acting like this under any other circumstance, but god was he loving it, despite the horrible circumstances that brought you here. 

“Thank you Petey,” the nickname made his heart skip a beat, “and your boyfriend too.”

That made his brows furrow. “Sweetheart…what do you mean?”

“Your boyfriend,” you said simply, your eyes still shut. He watched the way your lashes brushed against your cheek. It reminded him of when you used to fall asleep during your study sessions, you always looked so peaceful he couldn’t never bring himself to wake you, something you always berated him on. “You were just talking about him.”

Oh. “I wasn’t talking about my boyfriend, Ace. I was talking about yours.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously and while the topic of James always brought a scowl to his face, he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your little attitude. Until you said something.

“You’re so silly Petey, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The drugs must’ve really been getting to you. “Yeah, you do Ace. Tall, blonde, and annoying as hell. I believe he goes by James.” Peter couldn’t stop the little roll of his eyes. 

“Oh him,” you blew a raspberry and waved your hand as if you were trying to brush off the whole topic. “He’s a dummy.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh at your little proclamation. “Well, I can’t argue with that, sweetheart.”

“But he’s not my boyfriend.” You said with a small shrug, shifting on the bed.

Peter paused. What?

“I think you’re still feeling a little tired sweetheart, you had a long day. Why don’t you try to sleep some more-“

“Nuh uh,” you said defensively, your brows furrowing together in a way that made him wince considering your definitely-there-concussion. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Petey. M’not a liar!”

“I never said you are, Ace.” He assured you gently, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to soothe you. Peter wasn’t a doctor or anything but he figured it probably wasn’t great to get you all worked up in this sort of state. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Forget I even brought it up, alright? I believe you. Just try to get some rest for now.”

That seems to please you and you nuzzle your head back into the pillow.

Now...he knows he should leave you. He knows that you’re hurt, that there’s so many drugs in your system to help you with the pain, pain and trauma that you haven’t even had time to process.

And yet…

“Hey Ace?” He asked gently, leaning forward in his chair a bit. He just felt this urge to be as close to you as possible. If it weren’t for all your injuries he’d already have crawled into the hospital bed and held you so close to his chest, you wouldn’t be able to tell where he began and where you ended. 

That had been the dream. Always. When he’d had you and every goddamn day since he’d lost you.

“Hmm?” You hummed so softly, so sweetly, that all he wanted to do was lean down, kiss your forehead and tell you to rest. And he absolutely would, but he just had one question. 

Peter was a curious man. It was part of what made him such a great scientist. “Is there…a reason you’re saying you don’t have a boyfriend, sweetheart? Did something happen between you and James?”

“Well duh,” you giggled softly and rolled your eyes as if you couldn’t believe he was even asking this. His curiosity was only piqued. 

“Y-yeah?” Peter shifted in his chair, spreading his legs as he leaned closer, his elbow digging into his knee as propped his chin on his fist. He really didn’t want to come off as eager as he felt but there was no hiding the happy glint in his eyes. “Like what?”

Your eyes shifted around as if searching for the answer. “I don’t know if can tell you…”

That made his brows furrow. “Well why not, Ace? You know you can tell me anything.”

“Right, but…” Now you were the confused one., “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Did James tell you that? That you can’t tell me?”

“No…” you shook your head slowly. “Nope, not him. Me.”

“You…?” He asked quietly. He couldn’t lie, it hurt. Knowing that there was something you’d been purposefully hiding from him, so much so that you remembered you weren’t supposed to tell him, even in this state. Especially something concerning this. 

“Oh, don’t be sad Petey,” you said quickly when you noticed his downfallen expression. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you if you want!”

It was just like you of course, trying to cheer him up. He couldn’t imagine you’d be acting the same if you were completely sober, though. 

“I broke up with him.” And you said it so casually, your face completely relaxed, as if you had no idea how much those words meant to Peter. 

Now, he wasn’t naive enough to imagine that your breaking up with James meant he could be with you now. No, it didn’t work like that. But… this was a step. 

“Why’s that, Ace?” He had to be normal, he had to act like his heart wasn’t about to beat out of his chest, like his hands weren’t aching to be holding yours. 

“He’s a dummy,” you repeated as if it were obvious. And it was, Peter agreed of course. But there still had to be more. 

“Right, of course he is Ace, you’re so right. When did you… break up?” He couldn’t lie, he felt like at any second you’d snap of out this drug-happy-haze you were in, realize he was kind of sort of grilling for information on your (past?) relationship, and make him leave. But he just wanted to know a bit more. 

“Oh…pffft…” You laid back on the bed and blew a raspberry. “Like forever ago, Petey.”

What in the world? “Forever ago? Wow, that must be a long time ago, Ace.”

“Yeah,” you let out a heavy sigh and shut your eyes. “S’so long ago… that day we were running the paper.”

“What?!”

Oh. 

Oh.  

But that would mean… That day was over a week ago. He’d been you plenty of times since then. That dinner with him and May, all those small moments between you two… you were already single. 

“That…that long, Ace?” He was glad you weren’t fully aware, it meant you wouldn’t notice how choked he sounded. 

You didn’t really reply, just made some sort of soft, sighing noise as you lay back against the pillow and shut your head. Peter breathed deeply, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. 

He stayed there for a while, watching you sleep, his mind spinning from everything that had happened today. Last night had been amazing, the best time he’d had since he’d gotten back. Staring at you now, injured, drugged out, and laying in a hospital bed really put into perspective for him how quickly things could change. 

How much he needed you in his life. And not just as a friend. 

Peter was stuck there, stewing in his thoughts and doubts and everything ever when the door to your room was gently pushed open, revealed a worried-looking Alyssa. He stood, clearing his throat as she bounded in, eyes wide, hands clutching at her phone so tightly her knuckles were white. It seemed she’d been the closest of everyone he’d called.

“How is she?” She asked Peter worriedly, trying to keep her voice down for your sake.

“She’s…she’s gonna be okay.” Her sigh of relief resonated deeply with him. “But she is pretty banged up.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” she murmured gently, her eyes traced over your figure with deep sympathy. Peter did the same, and every second felt like his own personal hell. 

Alyssa turned to him with a puzzled look. “How’d you know about the accident? And how’d you get here so quick?”

Shit. “Oh, umm…I commute, so I was on the bridge as well, but nowhere near the accident like she was. When I saw the paramedics wheeling her to the ambulance…I went with them.” Enough of the truth. 

She nodded, looking back down at you, her fingers gently brushing some hair out of your face. “Well it’s good she had someone with her, even if she didn’t know it. And even if it was you.”

Ouch. He tried not to take it to heart though, he knew she was just looking out for you. “Yeah,” he murmured, “my thoughts exactly.”

“Im sorry, Peter,” Alyssa sighed and turned toward him. “I’m not trying to be a bitch, really. I appreciate your help, and I’m sure she does too.”

He shook his head, waving off her apology. “Don’t worry about it. I understand.”

Alyssa just sighed again and started pacing the room. “She did not deserve this.” He couldn’t agree more. “Do you know all that’s wrong with her? What’d her doctors say?”

Peter shook his head again. “No, they made me wait in the waiting room, later on a nurse came and told me I could see her but she wasn’t conscious. Honestly, I thought I was lucky that they even let me in so I thought I’d just wait for her parents to get here and get the full story from them. I called them, they be be here any—”

That wasn’t enough for her, apparently. Peter watched as Alyssa completely ignored him and made her way to your bedside, grabbing at the clipboard there and scanning them. 

“I…didn’t know you were pre-med.”

“M’not,” she brushed him off with a wave of her hand, her eyes never leaving the piece of paper.

Peter paused. “Well then…what’re you doing.”

“I went out with this dude who was pre-med. A total bore and a total pain, but I did learn a few things.”

“Yeah?” He asked, stepping up closer to her and looking over her shoulder as if the medical jargon would suddenly start making sense to him as well. “What can you make out of that?”

“Broken arm, obviously…she’s got a concussion, some internal bleeding, and a fracture in her right rib.”

Peter winced as she went on, his heart aching at the thought of you going through all that pain. 

“You said you called her parents?” Alyssa asked quietly. And when Peter looked over at her, he noticed her nose was tinged red, and her eyes as well.

“I did, yeah. Right before I called you.”

She nodded, pursing her lips. Quietly, she made her way to the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. “Is there…is there anything we can do?” She whispered. 

Peter wanted to tell her that if there was, he’d probably already done it by now. But he understood exactly what she meant and that wouldn’t help right now. “Be here. Help her. She still doesn’t fully understand what happened, I don’t think. She woke up a bit ago when I first came in, she was high as a kite so she probably won’t remember it. But she told me how scared she was, how scary the whole situation was.

“So…to answer your question, I think the best thing we can do for her is be there. Here in the hospital, and out there when she’s discharged.”

Alyssa nodded. He could see the tears swimming in her eyes, but he could almost see the spark behind them, the sheer determination to be there for her friend in every way she possibly could. 

Peter liked her. 

He looked back at you, unsure if the paleness of your skin was because of the bright, hospital fluorescents, or all the pain you’d been through today. 

“We’ll be there for her.” Alyssa said firmly and Peter appreciated the use of “we”.

“We will,” he nodded, his eyes never leaving your form. 

Thank you so much for helping, if you have any questions just let me know!

Alyssa’s text shone through Peter’s phone screen as he made his way around your apartment. It took everything in him to leave your side, but your parents had shown up and you needed some of your things. So he decided to make himself useful and also give your mom and dad the space to freak out about you. 

Your apartment was cozy, he thought as he walked around. It wasn’t that hard to find the small touches in the cramped space that were more you over Alyssa. Mugs with cute designs on them, a throw blanket that he recognized as the same one you used to take out with you on the fire escape and cuddle with as you waited for him to finish patrol. Sometimes you’d even take it with you when he used to swing you both to that old hill where you’d stargaze. He smiled to himself at the memory, there hadn’t been a day that went by since graduation where he hadn’t thought of those moments with you, or a night where he didn’t look up to the sky, stars visible or not, and missed you immeasurably. 

He realized that the reminiscing probably wasn’t the best thing to do right now while you were laying in the hospital waiting for him to get back with your things. He made his way to your bedroom, his heart melting even more as he stepped inside. If he thought the apartment was you, he wasn’t ready for your room. It was like stepping into a time machine and he was back with you at your old apartment, the two of you trying and failing to keep quiet so your parents don’t wake up to find you together in the middle of the night. There were papers, notebooks and pens strewn on the floor and he could practically see you hunched over, brows furrowed as you scribbled furiously, trying not to miss any thought. 

But there were some differences now. There were pictures, ones he didn’t recognize, pictures he wasn’t a part of anymore. Some of you and Alyssa, some with MJ, one on your nightstand with you and James that made him scoff quietly and roll his eyes. The thought of that guy alone was almost enough to make him physically gag. How could you ever think he was right for you? Well, you didn’t apparently, not anymore at least. He had to gauge more information from you about that, preferably when you weren’t drugged up or laying in a hospital bed. 

So he walked around your room slowly, trying to figure out what would be useful. He grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks, your phone charger, and your headphones. They doctor had said they weren’t sure how long they needed to keep you there just yet, but Peter wasn’t going to be unprepared or have you feeling anymore uncomfortable than you most likely already were. 

So he walked over to your closet, he wanted to grab a few things he knew you’d appreciate. He grabbed an empty tote bag of yours to fill up. He grabbed a few sweaters and cardigans because he knew you got cold easily and he imagined sterile hospital rooms didn’t help with that. He was rummaging around through the small shelf where you had your sweatpants, trying to decide which one seemed the comfiest when his hand pressed against something hard, making a small rustling sound. 

Confused, he pushed away the clothes covering whatever it was you had hidden in your closet, and he was met with a small, square-shaped gift. He would’ve left it, really, the last thing he wanted to do as he was gathering things to take back to the hospital where you lay injured was snoop in your room. But his eyes caught sight of something. The tag. 

Merry Christmas Petey ♡︎

Your familiar scrawl stared back at him tauntingly, making him wonder when you could’ve ever possibly gotten him a Christmas gift—

Winter break. That damned winter break where he was supposed to see you, but everything had gone wrong. He’d chickened out at the last minute. He knew he shouldn’t, knew he had no right to open this even if it had been originally bought for him. But Peter had always been too curious for his own good.

With his heart in his throat, he pulled the wrapping off slowly. He pulled out the box, a small smile on his lips when he saw the “LEGO” label on the top right corner. But his smile fell when he noticed what set you’d gotten for him. 

Map of Constellations. 

Oh. It was perfect. 

And he was the whole reason he’d never gotten it in the first place. 

Peter felt… well, he wasn’t really sure what he felt. Guilt, definitely. Touched, obviously. But regret. God, he could just picture you when you’d gotten that text from him two winters ago… of course you hated his guts. 

He realized he owed you an explanation. Whether you spit on his face and told him to never speak to you again, or you accepted it with that icy, close-off demeanor, he owed it to you. He’d left you in the dark for so long about what he was thinking, all the reasons and he’d conjured up. The two of you had never worked like that, especially him. No, you were always the one person he could trust, the one person who he turned to for every thing. 

Peter was a terrible secret keeping in general, but especially with you. Something in him just wanted to surrender to you, tell you everything little secret, every single thought. He hadn’t let that part of him win over in a while. 

Maybe it was finally time it did.

With his heart in his throat, he returned the Lego set to the back of your of your closet, the torn wrapping paper resting around it, its edges being held down by the box. But if you were to pick it up, it’d fall off, and you’d easily be able to tell someone had been there and opened it. 

Great, now not only did he feel guilty about letting you get hurt when he was literally the hero of the city, but he felt even more guilty for snooping. But you’d forgive him…right?

Maybe he could get even with you after finding that file on his laptop. But he wasn’t upset about that at all, actually. He loved that you knew he’d thought of you while he was away, that he kept up with your achievements and he cared about them. 

He closed your closet and packed a few more things before standing in your doorway, giving the room one final look, trying to decide if he’d forgotten anything. His eyes fell on the picture on your nightstand, the one that depicted you and James. You were both smiling wide, James’ long arm hovering over you and holding up the camera to capture the picture

In a few quick strides Peter was back in the room, grabbing the picture frame and lowering it face down onto the table. He didn’t think you’d appreciate coming home after everything you’d been through and having a photo of your ex great you as soon as you stepped into your room. 

Yeah…yeah, thats why he’d done it. For you. Duh. 

Pleased with himself, Peter stepped out of your room and out of the apartment altogether, a smile tugging at his lips and he carried your filled-to-the-brim tote bag. 

Walking through the bright-white hospital hallways, Peter could make out several different noises. A beep…beep…beep… of someone’s heart monitor, the squeaking of un-oiled cart wheels as they scraped along the tile floor, phones ringing at every nurse’s station that he passed, and chatter. Chatter from doctors and nurses alike as they moved in and out of patient’s rooms, chatter from others who were visitors just like him. Honestly, it would’ve been a little overwhelming for him, even though he had much better control over his senses than he did in high school, it was still a lot. 

But he was going to see you and you… well, you always had a way of calming him down. 

You’d been here for close to a week now, your recovery going extremely well, and Peter had come in every single day without fail. There no sign of James—or whether he knew you were injured or not—and you never mentioned him. There was some hushed conversation between you and Lyss a few days ago (he hadn’t been actively trying to eavesdrop, but he had sharp senses and it just happened) where he’d heard you tell her you were pretty sure you’d told him about the breakup while you were kind-of-sort-of out of it. Lyss had just laughed as if it totally checked. 

That was another thing that had sort of developed during your stay here. His (sort of) friendship with Alyssa. They’d bonded over their desire to help you and be there for you after everything you’d been through. She hadn’t once threatened to fire him from the paper, so all in all, Peter thought he was doing good.

He waved to a few of the nurses he’d become familiar with during your time here as he made his way to your room. So far, much to his eager excitement, you hadn’t kicked him out yet any of the times he’d come to visit. Sometimes he stayed in a chair beside you, old laptop in his lap while he pretended to be working on something for school or the paper. Of course, he wanted all his attention to be solely on you, but he had a feeling you’d respond to him better if he was (pretending) being productive. You didn’t really speak to him other than answering the same question he asked every day, “How’re you feeling, Ace?”, to which you would answer “Good”, despite laying injured in a hospital bed.

He figured now wasn’t the best time to be hounding you about talking about everything, not when you were still going through it. He could protest for details later. There was a silent agreement between the two of you. He never pushed, and you let him worry. Silently. Because let’s be honest, you both knew exactly why he was by your side every free second he could get and then some. But you never asked him to leave. Maybe that meant something. 

Or maybe not. 

When he reached your door, it was open, and the bed was empty. Huh… maybe you’d gone to get more tests done? 

That was exactly what he would’ve believed, and he would’ve sat in a chair waiting for you, if a nurse hadn’t seen him and taken some pity on him. 

“She’s not here anymore,” the voice was familiar, and when Peter whipped around, he recognized her as the same, short old lady who had spoken to him when he’d been a mess in the waiting room the same day you’d been admitted. 

“What do you mean?” Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. Had they transferred you? But that wouldn’t make sense. 

“She checked herself out not too long ago, you just missed her, actually.” The nurse informed him with a sad smile. 

“Wait…” he shook his head quickly, his heart racing, “no, no. She can’t do that, she’s still hurt. She hasn’t been here long enough.”

She simply shrugged. “Her doctors cleared her, and she jumped at the chance to get out. She is definitely going to have some outpatient recovery, which we’ve already discussed. She was informed to take it easy, however. I trust you’ll be the one to make sure she sticks to that, hm?”

Peter was silent for a moment, his mind still reeling. In his opinion, you were nowhere near fit enough to be sent back home. You were still hurt, still in the thick of your healing process. He knew he wasn’t a doctor, but he didn’t trust you were alright to be sent away just yet. 

But you were gone, and knowing you, you’d probably try walking for at least half the trip. That’s what he had to worry about now. 

“Yeah, yeah you can,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. 

The nurse simply smiled at him. “You two make a cute couple.”

“Oh.. we’re not… no,” he shook his head quickly, but he’d be lying if he said her words didn’t make his heart skip a beat. So, other people saw it too.

“Uh huh,” she nodded, a sly smile playing on her lips. “That’s what they all say.”

Peter flushed. “I mean—I mean we were, but not…not anymore.”

“Your fault, I take it?” She asked with a raised brow, but Peter could tell it wasn’t really a question. 

“Um…yeah,” he murmured, looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was.”

She let out an amused huff, as if she knew everything before Peter even said it to her. “Can I let you in on a little secret, young man?”

Peter lifted his head slightly, peeking up at her.

“Try,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Try, try, and keep trying. I saw you with her these past few days, and I saw her with you. Now I don’t know what happened, but from what I can see, there’s a chance for you two. You just have to want it enough.”

God, did he want it. He wanted it more than anything. 

“I do,” he whispered desperately. He wasn’t sure why he was confiding in a stranger like this, but…it felt right. “I just don’t know if she feels the same. It’s—it’s been a while and I wouldn’t blame her if…”

“Oh honey, she does,” the nurse said with a small chuckle, her eyes glinting as if she knew something Peter could never guess. “Or at the very least, she will. If you want it bad enough to work for it.”

He paused. He wanted to, of course he did. But when he’d come back, you’d had James. But now…

“You said she checked herself out? How long ago?” He asked suddenly, a spark of determination in his eyes that made the nurse look at him approvingly.

“Not long, just a little bit before you arrived. But I suggest you get going, young man.”

“Peter… it’s Peter, and thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t thank me, go get your girl, Peter.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He was racing back down the hospital hallway the same way he’d come in, shooting a quick “thank you!” over his shoulder to the nurse. 

He was going to find you. And he was going to spend every second after that actively begging for your forgiveness.

The harsh wind hit him hard the second he stepped out of the hospital, whipping his hair back and giving his face a soft flush. But he didn’t care about any of that. He walked quickly, debating whether or not swinging would be more efficient, and making sure you got home properly. But he came to the conclusion that on foot would be better. He needed to speak to you, face to face. It was too risky, given all your injuries at the moment, he would never try something knowing there was even a chance you might get hurt. 

So he ran. He figured you wouldn’t really be able to get too far and, hopefully, you hadn’t hailed a cab just yet. He wondered whether you were planning to return to your apartment or your parents’ place. He hoped for the latter, at least then he’d be closer to you. 

It didn’t take him long to spot you, hair blowing wildly in the wind as you slowly made your way down the sidewalk. 

“Ace, wait up!”

He watched you pause, turn, meet his eyes, turn again and continue walking. He should’ve expected that, really. 

“Ace, sweetheart, please.” He was closer now, pushing through the others crowding the sidewalk. He didn’t care if anyone heard him, he didn’t care if he got weird looks. All he cared about was you.

You didn’t need to turn to know he was right behind you, you could just tell. Peter’s presence always had some sort of effect on you, a tug of some kind, as if your hearts held some sort of magnetic field only for each other, each one constantly seeking the other out. You were sure you could seek him out in a crowded room, blindfolded and deaf. 

But you didn’t turn. 

“Look Peter,” you whisper in a hoarse voice. You weren’t sure if it was from all the emotions coursing through you right now, from how rough the past couple of days had been, or if you were just tired. Maybe all one the above. “I really—really—appreciate everything you’ve done for me this past week. I’ve seen videos online of the accident and…” you inhaled deeply. It had been hard to see yourself like that. But people were set on capturing Spider-Man’s heroism on camera, you’d seen it plenty of times before. You’d just never been the victim. 

Peter winced, taking a couple long strides so he stood before you now, placing a hand on your shoulder which got you to, thankfully, stop for a second. But your gaze fell to the ground and he didn’t like that.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Ace.” He murmured gently, his voice like a soothing balm to every scar on your body, physical or not. And you hated it. “You know nothing good would come out of you seeing yourself like that.”

“It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t go looking for the videos. But…they were all over my feed and there’s nothing better to do in the hospital than scroll.”

You didn’t mention that your algorithm tended to favor Spider-Man related videos and articles, making sure they showed up first-click for you. 

Peter’s frown only deepened. “You shouldn’t have been scrolling in the first place, you had a concussion. Surely your doctors told you that.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course that thought had crossed his mind. “I turned my brightness all the way down, it was fine.”

He scoffed as if he were personally offended at the idea. “Fine? You thought turning your brightness down would make it—”

“Oh my god, Peter.” You stared at him in disbelief. “So not the time for that.”

Peter simply sighed before he lowered the hand on your shoulder to grip the bicep of your un-injured arm gently, leading you to a small alleyway between shops on the sidewalk where the two of you had stood. 

You frowned. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“We need to talk, Ace.” He didn’t let go even after he’d stopped walking. It was as if he knew you’d make a break for it the first second you got the chance. He could tell you were overwhelmed, of course you were, who wouldn’t be after everything you’d been through. And he knew what you did when you were overwhelmed. It was what you’d done that morning walking Central Park with him.

“About what?” You averted your gaze, looking to the side, trying to come off as uninterested as possible. This might’ve been the worst possible time to try to make conversation. 

“You know about what, Ace.” He whispered softly. 

You shook your head, refusing to meet his eyes. “No, no, I told you thank you. And I meant it, but other than that, I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“What in the world are you thanking me for?”

“For saving me,” you said, as if it were obvious. 

Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever looked more horrified in his life. “Ace, sweetheart…baby, what? You never ever have to thank me for that. It’s my job.”

You tried not to react to the pet names falling so easily off his lips, but you could feel a burning in your eyes, and that horrible feeling of something stuck in your throat. “Oh please,” you tried to sound casual, but your voice was quiet in fear of it breaking into a million pieces on the alleyway floor if you raised it even a decibel, “people thank Spider-Man all the time, even if it is your job.”

“That’s not the job I was talking about,” he whispered, his voice soft as air, his grip on your arm tightening ever-so-slightly.

“Uh uh, no.” you pushed away from him, shaking your head quickly and finally looking up at him. A face so familiar, you were sure you’d remember every feature, even in death. 

Peter’s expression fell and he couldn’t help the unconscious step he took toward you, as if the two of you were in a dance, push and pull, wherever you went he followed. And god did he wish you would just let him fucking follow. 

He’d lost direction for a while, but now he was back and he needed you to lead him everywhere and then some. 

“You can’t just say shit like that as if it’s…as if it’s…” you looked away again, rubbing at your eyes as if you could just scrub all the tears, all the emotions right out. 

“As if it’s what, Ace? As if it’s normal? 'Cause it is. I may be Spider-Man, sweetheart, but my one real job, the only one I care about, the one I’d pick over everything and everyone, is protecting you. No matter how much you hate me, no matter how much you don’t want me around, I’m yours.”

You exhaled shakily, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You knew it, of course you did. You knew deep down, in every fiber of your being, even when he was five hundred miles away, even when he was back and you wouldn’t look twice in his direction, if you were ever in trouble, Peter wouldn’t hesitate to be there for you. 

It was why it wasn’t a shock at all when you’d opened your eyes in that cold hospital room and he had been the first face you’d seen. 

But it hurt. God, did it hurt. Every single time you remembered it was like a hand shoved its way in your chest, broken every bone and torn every muscle to grab your heart, squeezed it roughly, and ripped it out. 

“I’m not going to let you shut me out,” he whispered seriously, “especially after everything’s that’s happened to you. So forget about it.”

You wanted to forgive him, of course you did. That night he’d stopped by your fire escape not long after his return, the walk in the park the morning after the photography competition, working together in the newsroom, dinner with him and May, the way that night had been so perfect…you’d wanted to forgive him so badly. 

But the hand shoved, and tore, and squeezed, and ripped. 

And you wanted him to know how much you hurt. That you weren’t just being petty and difficult, but that you’d loved and loved and loved till it tore you in half.  

Your lip wobbled, but you fought to push through, to get the words out before you lost them forever, “I waited. I waited for you every night and every day I thought you would come back for me. I thought you’d try to fix things between us again, because how could you be okay with it? But that was the only way I pushed through, I told myself this was what you wanted, you didn’t want to be with me, for now at least, you needed to grow and you need your own space and I owed it to you because of how much I loved you.”

Sniffling, you wiped some tears off your face before continuing, “But I fucking waited, Peter, because I couldn’t give up on us. Every night I’d turn on my lamp and sit by the window and look for the stars and wonder if you were doing the same thing, if you were thinking of me when you saw them. If you were thinking of me at all.

“I was so excited when you asked to see me during winter break, I thought ‘this is it, we’re finally gong to fix things, but then you cancelled.”

“I’m so sorry Ace—”

“I know that you lied,” you breathed. You were silent for a minute, letting your words sink in for him. “I know that you lied to me about not being able to make it. I went home that night anyway, I was going to visit my parents and drop off your present with May, but when I turned the corner I saw you, walking and laughing and standing right there after you’d told me you couldn’t see me because your flight got cancelled.

“And what's even worse,” you let out a laugh that held no humor, “is that I still defended you! I still tried to reason it out because I didn’t want to believe that you would lie to me—”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Ace, please—”

“But you did!” You snapped. “And you’re doing it right now too, because I saw you, Peter! And I really just don’t understand why you would invite me in the first place just to cancel on me, is it some weird manipulation tactic or something?” Even as the words left your mouth, they felt wrong, and you felt a stab of regret when you saw the immediate flash of hurt that took over his features.

Peter Parker was a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.

“God, no. Never. Of course not, I—” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly, “I did want to see you, and my flight did get cancelled.”

“Then what happened, Pete?” Your voice was soft, quiet, sad. He felt like beating himself up but he owed you this, owed you this explanation because the thought of you spending over a year thinking he had done that to manipulate you? Or worse, because he didn’t want to see you at all, was killing him.

“I was going to tell you I booked another flight, but then I thought of seeing you,” a tear fell down his face. Then another. “I thought of actually seeing you and having to leave again, about not being able to stay, not being able to kiss you and hold you like I wanted—like I needed—and I couldn’t do it, Ace. I couldn’t handle it I’m sorry.”

You watched him cry, speechless, as your own tears fell silently down your face. So much time lost, so much hurt spread and felt. “I didn’t know you’d seen me,” he continued, “I had no clue Y/N.” He walked up to you and grabbed your hand in his, placing his other on the shoulder of your arm with the cast. “I would’ve fixed it or—or done something, fuck, I don’t know, but anything other than you thinking that I didn’t want to see you. I’m sorry I was so fucking scared.”

“MJ said you had a girlfriend,” you were staring at your shoes now. You weren’t quite sure why those words had left your mouth, you were nowhere near that topic, but…it was the only thing you could think.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

His confusion made you confused, and you looked up to see his utterly lost expression. “You don’t have to lie Peter, she told me about the girl you were going out with and I get it, really, I’m not mad. Hell, that’s why I went out with James so—”

“Ace, baby, I never had a girlfriend. I never went out with anyone.”

You went silent. What? “But—but MJ said you went on a date?”

“Ace, I know I haven’t been Mr. Honesty in the past, we just covered that, but I’m telling you, I never went on a date. I mean, there was this one time where my roommate tried to set me up with someone, he did that thing where the three of us plan a hangout and the third person conveniently ‘bails’ at the last second, but I left as soon as I found out what was going on, like, right after he told me he wouldn't be making it. But I don’t possibly know how MJ could know about that.”

You shook your head, confusion growing more by the second. “That’s not what happened. MJ told me she was on the phone with you, and there was a girl, and you were getting dressed up, like date dressed up, and…” you trailed off, waiting for the punch to the gut when he told you that there was a mistake, that there was a date and he had just forgotten up until now. 

“I still don’t know what you mean—” You saw the realization dawning on his features. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured, shaking his head. 

“So you did go on a date,” you mumbled bitterly. 

“No! God, no,” he shook his head quickly, dismissing the words as soon as they left your mouth. “But…I was on FaceTime with her one day while I was getting ready—”

“For your date.”

“No, Ace. God, stop saying that. No…I was getting ready for some lame celebratory dinner with my physics team. There was this competition with other colleges, it’s sort of a big deal, it was in the paper and stuff, you probably would’ve written a killer article about it, but anyway we won, so we organized this dinner at a fancy restaurant to celebrate.”

Your burrows furrowed as you took in his words. A celebratory team dinner? But what about—

“And the girl? The girl was Amy, she was dating my roommate, she’s actually who introduced me to the team. Yeah, she was rushing me ‘cause I was late, and she was my ride. It was not a date, Ace. It was…it was just a bunch of nerds celebrating beating some other nerds.” 

He stepped even closer to you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “It wasn’t a date, Y/N. Please believe me.”

Your mind was reeling. So…the whole time he was away…since graduation…

“You never went out with anyone else?” Your voice was quiet, scared, as if this time, his answer would be different. 

“No, baby. Never.” He answered without hesitation. “I’ve never wanted anyone else, I’ve never thought about anyone else. It has only ever been you, Ace. It will only ever be you.”

Tears burned in your eyes and you could feel your face flushing with unshed emotions. But that meant everything you’d been imagining, everything that had set you off, your catalyst, it hadn’t been true. 

“B-but I thought…You were supposed to…”

“No,” he whispered softly, leaning down to be more face level with you. “I’m not supposed to do anything other than be with you. And I know—I know I’m the reason I lost you in the first place, but I swear on everything I am, Ace, I was doing it for you. Even if it was stupid and horrible for the both of us, my only intention was what would benefit you in the long run.

“This relationship—us—me and you… it’s never been fair to you, and that’s completely my fault. I know how much you used to worry about me when I was out being Spider-Man. You used to lie, to say you were staying up for some other reason, not to make sure I got home safe. But I could see through you every time.”

You shook your head followed, by a soft sniffle. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything, Ace. It wouldn’t have been fair to you, worrying about me every second I wasn’t on the other side of the phone, staying up just to hear from me, staying in and opting out from every event just get in a short call with me…It was too much, too much for me to ever willingly put you through.”

A part of you wanted to argue, to tell him you’d missed out on a good night’s sleep, on more parties and events than you could count because of the breakup. But another part of you knew that that wouldn’t have helped. The part that knew Peter Parker would do anything for you. Even if it meant making his life even harder than it already would’ve been after moving to a new city in a new state to attend a new school. 

“You know I would’ve put myself through that and worse for you,” you whispered brokenly. 

“I do know.” He lifted the hand that gripped just below your shoulder and brought it up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your skin, wiping away tears that you hadn’t even realized had fallen. And it felt so good to be held by him like this again, so right, so perfect. It was like every cell in your body was finally alive after being dormant for two years. 

“And that’s why I had to be the one to end things, because you never would’ve.”

It only took one shaky inhale before you crumbled, sobbing hard while Peter held you close, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest, being mindful of your broken arm. 

Your mind was a super cut of every moment the two of you shared up until now. Graduation, running into him that first day of spring semester, the photography competition, that conversation in the park the morning after…He was still Peter. Your Peter. He always had been. 

Pulling away, you sniffled, wiping your nose with your sleeve, looking up at him through tear heavy lashes. Peter didn’t waste a second before he was cupping your face between his hands, holding you reverently, and if you were the most precious thing in the world. And with the way he was looking at you right now, you almost believed it yourself. 

“You know,” you cleared your throat, your voice still watery and shaky from all your tears, “I still haven’t fully forgiven you, Pete. Even with good intentions, what you did…it gutted me.”

Peter’s eyes clenched shut with pain. But not for himself and your lack of forgiveness, no, but for you and what he’d put you through. Even if what he’d done had hurt him too, had hurt more than breaking every bone in his body, it hurt more that he’d caused you any sort of pain. 

“I don’t blame you, sweetheart, of course I don’t,” he murmured quietly, leaning down and pressing his forehead against your own. His heart skipped a beat when you didn’t pull away, when he realized you hadn’t pulled away from him at all tonight. “But I just have one thing to ask of you, Ace.”

You looked up at him, a question in your eyes. Peter takes a second to just relish in the moment, the feeling of your soft skin against the palms of his hands, those beautiful eyes that he’d dreamt about every night, brighter than any star in the galaxy, looking up at him…he enjoys every second and he thanks whatever god or angel may be listening for giving him this again. 

“Just…don’t decide to hate me just yet, alright? I know I have no right to ask you of this, and you have every right to hate me as much and as soon as possible. But can you just take a few days? Maybe three? Think about everything and then get back to me? And I promise you no more lies, no more big decisions without talking to you first…just…just me. And you.”

Your lips quirked up with a small smile as you leaned into his touch. “Three days?”

“Three days.”

“Deal.”

(3 months later)

“See that brighter star just below Orion’s belt?”

“Yes, she’s very pretty.”

“Well, I’m sure she appreciates the compliment, Ace. But I think it’s a dude.”

“What?” You frowned deeply at his words. “And why would that be?”

“That’s Sirius, the brightest star in Earth’s night sky.”

“Oh my god!” You flipped over and pushed yourself up onto your elbows to look down at him. “Like in Harry Potter!”

Peter laughed loudly, already expecting that same exact response from you. He grabbed at you and tugged you back down onto his chest. “Just wait, Ace, it gets better. Sirius is a part of a constellation called Canis Major, also known as the ‘Greater Dog’ constellation.”

“Dog! Just like in Harry Potter!”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, yeah. Just like in Harry Potter.”

Things had been going well for you two so far. The three days after that night had passed and you’d decided to forgive him, and give him another chance, if anything, for that girl who’d spent over a year sitting by the window, hoping and dreaming for another chance like this. It didn’t mean everything was okay, you’d been sure to remind him of that, and you’d told him to think of this as more of a pre-second chance. 

Honestly, you’d been teasing more than anything, but he’d accepted without a second thought. But it was a big help, slowly getting back into this. It felt so natural, it took little to no effort. And yet, every now and again he’d say something about a place on his old campus he thought you’d love, you’d introduce him to new places you’d found around the city and had thought of sharing with him since you’d first been there. 

It was eye-opening in its own way. Despite going through all that time not speaking or seeing each other, you were still with each other. Always. 

Wherever one of you went, the other followed, whether physically or not. It was made obvious in all the USBs Peter had filled with photos of things that had reminded him of you. It was made obvious in the box of handwritten letters you’d been writing for him since he’d left. 

It was a beautiful thing, to be so loved, despite everything that had come between you. Despite the silence, the distance, the hurt—you’d both still held on, just like he’d promised. You’d still carried each other, remembered each other in the quiet ways that mattered most. 

“Hey,” he spoke up softly, pointing up at the sky. That was another thing you’d discovered he’d done to keep you close during those darker times. Learn more star stuff to share with you. “See that one? The kind of dimmer one to Sirius’ right?”

“Mhm.”

“That one’s called Procyon, and it’s the principal star in the constellation Canis Major, which is the ‘Lesser Dog constellation.”

“Wait…” Peter bit back a laugh as you flipped over again to look down at him. He knew you couldn’t help yourself and he found it equally hilarious and adorable that every time you had something to say, you had to be looking at him to do so. 

“Yes, Ace?”

“There’s a “Greater Dog’ and Lesser Dog’ constellation? That’s so mean! Why’re we comparing them like that?”

Yup. Absolutely adorable. “I dunno, Ace, maybe the ancient stargazers had something against dogs.”

You scoffed and lay back down against his chest. “So…is Procyon the ‘lesser’ dog ‘cause she’s smaller?”

Peter smiled, his eyes no longer on the sky as you lay back down against his chest. “Yes, Procyon is the lesser dog because it’s not as bright as Sirius. But its name actually means ‘before the dog’ in Greek because it rises before Sirius, which y’know, they sometimes just call the ‘dog star.’”

You hummed softly taking in all his words. “You know what’s so crazy? This is the same sky people looked at thousands and thousands of years ago.”

Peter nodded, his gaze drifting back up to the stars. “That is crazy. Some of those things have been in the sky for millions of year, and people have been looking at them and making constellations out of them for thousands.”

“I wonder how old some of those are,” you mused quietly. 

“It varies, Peter answered simply, “Sirius, the one that we were just talking about? Yeah, it’s still a relatively young star, only about 500 million years old. Some others, like the ones in Orion’s Belt, are billions of years old. It depends on their size and what stage of life they’re in.”

“Imagine being 500 million years old and still being considered young.” You snorted in amusement. Flipping over once again, you smiled down at Peter. “You know a lot more star stuff than you used to.”

Peter grinned, glad he’d impressed you. “Yeah? Be honest, is it hot?”

You couldn’t stop the loud laugh that escaped you. “Hot? Really? That’s what you want to know?”

“Yeah, of course it is.” He was grinning widely now as he pushed himself onto his elbows. “So come on.”

Averting your gaze, you tried not to notice how good his biceps look today, or how his t-shirt had ridden up, revealing the faint line of his abs, just enough to make your thoughts wander. 

“Nope,” you said easily, shaking your head, “it isn’t hot.”

“You little…liar!” Peter lunged at you, tackling you to the ground and pinning you down as you let out a surprised laugh. 

Silence filled the small hilltop, your old place. It had been your first time coming back here since…everything, and you couldn’t have imagined it anymore perfect. 

Even if Peter was always a worrywart.

“Oh my god, Ace, I’m so sorry, did I hurt you—”

“Peter—Petey—relax, sweetie, I’m fine.” You assured him, gently placing a hand over his which was resting on the side of your ribcage. Also known as one of the places where you’d been injured previously. 

He gave you a look as if he didn’t quite believe you. “You always say that, but you were hurt—”

“And now I’m better,” you whispered, giving his hand a soft squeeze, “thanks to you.”

Peter never left you after that night in the alleyway. He’d taken you back to your parents’ apartment (which was conveniently right beside his) and he’d done everything he could to make you more comfortable and make sure you received the proper rest you were in dire need of. 

He had claimed this his actions during that time shouldn’t affect your judgment of his over the course of the three days he’d given you. But of course it had, how could it not? Peter Parker loved you, and you loved him. And despite all the things that you’d been through, you were here now. 

And that meant something. 

You used to wonder if you and Peter held any similarities to the seasonal constellations he’d told you all about. How, once, the two of you had been shining so brightly, and everyone could notice. 

And then came the darker times, when your stars were dimmer, the sky darker, and all you could do was think about what it would be like if you still had him. 

But now you were back, and shining better than ever.

And you had a good feeling that this time would last.

“Hey Ace,” he whispered with a large smile on his face.

“Yes, Peter?”

“I’m so in love with you.”

Yeah?” You grinned wide. “Tell me again.”

He laughed and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll tell you however many times you want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

oh my goodness🥹💕 its over ahhh i loved writing them so much! if you ever want to see more of them, i’d love to write blurbs and dribbles for them so don’t be afraid to request anything!

thank you all so much for reading!!

‘seasonal’ taglist: @keira-kaz2y5 @imafangirlofeverything @lov3vivian

@miilesvsp @rkivesfilm @starshine145

@blondygwendy

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for not making any of my characters, that I have to crank out daily, pansexual/polysexual/omnisexual specifically and only making them bi?

🏳️‍🌈👶🏼 so i can recognize this later lmao also I'm not panphobic or anything, this isn't about the validity of the label, pan is fine.

So i (20snb bi) have a project I'm working on where I take all the characters from a specifc media I'm into and pair them up with each other to make every possible ship kid from every possible ship(excluding characters who are kids themselves or are related or something, that shit is gross). Basically taking every character and pairing them up with another and creating a kid I think they'd have. Its a big project with lots of characters and I'm easily over 400 at this point. I really enjoy this, even if I'm not even 25% complete.

However I set a schedule for myself that at least one ship kid needs to come out each day which, considering I draw them, color them and give them some development and some even have siblings, (The refs themselves easily take me an hour to an hour and a half) I have to make lots of them quickly to keep up with my daily grind. I've been doing this project for over a year and although it's stressful, I can get them out quickly with breaks for myself.

Their character sheets all have some pretty basic info like their name, gender, pronouns, personality and more but it also includes their sexuality/orientation. I have a pretty basic list of options for what their sexuality will be: straight, lesbian, gay, Enbian, bi, Aro, ace and aroace with a few random things like polyam, WLW and a good amount of the something-loving-something/juvelic terms. I did this because, well, there's not many entirely unique orientations outside of them and although I love mogai/xenogenders and complex identities, I dont want to potentially drag up discourse or bring problems to my budding art blog over it. Its just not worth it to me to turn something I really care about on its head, even if I like microlabels.

In this case, I'm using bi as an umbrella term as most of the other terms share the same definition with slight variations in wording or action but not much difference in practice. We all like everyone, it's basic stuff. However, apparently this is a problem.

I've gotten one or two anons asking me questions about my guides asking some kind stuff like is this lesbian ship kid a butch or femme or Is this picture of them now or just at the age you put on the ref and other harmless stuff. Then things got rude with some Nbphobia but thrice now I've gotten asks:

1. Asking snarkily if im a panphobe

2. insulting me for not specifically writing pan or Omni and just writing bi.

3. Saying that I "clearly dont care about pansexual representation." Then brought up how my primary oc is native american so i clearly care about representation but that oc used to be a sona and I'm native?? Its confusing. (And Lowkey racist shit to just assume any native character is a "diversity quota" character instead of just a person existing but I digress-)

Im not pan, im bi so ig these people assume I'm not cool with pan people which isnt true? I have nothing aginest them, they are just pretty similar and I dont feel like it matters if they are specfically bi or pan or poly or any other label. I don't go into details like that for any other sub-group, not even pronouns and I included combinations and some common Neopronouns. I understand the importance of representation but my project has less than 50 people looking at it every day, Im not netflix or something. I'm one guy on the most LGBT blogging site with a big project and very little audience, I'm not showing people who wouldn't already know what pan is that pansexuality exists.

This project isn't that deep considering the characters in question aren't human/dont have human characteristics.(no it's not hazbin/helluva) Also ive never spoken about lgbt discourse or stated anything remotely close to it beyond the guides just passively having characters who are an LGBT identity. I've not even mentioned all the potentional orientations they could have so I'm not sure where/why this came up in the first place. The most politcial things ive said are calling out a creator in my fandom who outed themselves as a transphobe and mentioning im pro-palestine. That's it.

I mean this is pretty low stakes, I can just block these people and be done with it and this some seriously online shit but I just wanna check.

Am I being an asshole for just writing bi instead of specifying their mspec label because I have to produce characters quickly and I don't see enough of a difference to warrant a change/specification that would ultimately slow and clog an already stressful and complex project?

I dont think I am but idk lol

What are these acronyms?

[93rd-floret-lily]

Hello, Ive gotten word of your vent Affini problem and I was thinking, if you had covered the vent with a hard tarp then use a fan to pump boiling water with baking powder mixed into it then shoot it through using the fan into the vents it could deter the affini from the vents, this will take some time to set up but if you made a frame to put on the ceiling beforehand and have it all in one to two peices, it could be quick enough to be done in a minute or three, and if this doesn't work just use the tarp to block the vents but do make really small holes so at least air can get through.

Brilliant idea I'm sure! I got started right away when I read your suggestion. I got some measuring tapes to get the sizes of the vents so I'd have the sizes of the tarps. That damn weed stole the tape and the paper I had taken the notes on. and I was about to put down the numbers in my phone when I realized it might take that too. -._-. I left my home with a vent I screwed out of the ceiling. i went to my neighbor who, unbeknownst to me, is a floret now -_- . they had tons of questions about why I was carrying around an airvent, why I wanted to compile a bunch of stuff. At a certain point in my interrogation they got a message and changed their attitude entirely! They made everything for me and I instantly knew that damn pest must've read your message over my shoulder. the whole plan had been jeopardized.

I just about dumped baking soda straight into my AC unit out of frustration. When i got into my home all the things it stole were in a nice pile with a note that said "Behave now. your wardship has already started." at least I got out of the house and I shoehorned in some compliments during my conversation. so I'm following the 'rules' that I absolutely do not respect the nonexistent legitimacy of.

[doggirltaurgirlsheath]

copying this from my oc worldbuilding server, all originally under a spoiler but ill put this under a readmore. this is like, p venty so dont expect much sexy, just explaing some lore for the character i use as an icon on here and another "if you wanna ask me about my characters heres everything about them" call

ruby's whole bit is largely me dealing with the like. adhd/autistic feeling of being wasted potential, the "where would i be if my brain just worked" kinda thing.

ruby is a roxanne from fnaf unit (because ive always imagined those being semi-mass produced and shipped off to the entertainment complexes) who was broken and malfunctioning from the getgo. not in like a snaps and murders people kinda way, just had alot of performance issues and the voicebox never worked and the battery always seemed to be drained and they couldnt figure out how to fix it, so they just left her out and eventually she was bought by a resturant who didnt mind and just wanted a robot in general.

she never performed, she wasnt cut out to do so, she was mostly treated as a restoration project by whoever bought her. as always happens in these sorts of things, she gained sentience and was allowed to just do her own thing. importantly, the issues that plagued her from the beginning were never fixed. shes still mute and is always on low, power saving mode but still needs to recharge every two weeks ish apposed to the two months the functional animatronics need.

she keeps to herself and is largely removed from whoever bought her, so i havent felt the need to establish much about them. over time shes become her own thing but that looming feeling of not living up to the full potential she could be it has always been there. recently theres been alot of big stressful shit happening in my day to day and its been nice having a character to be in the headspace of "despite not having any effort to give, youre still appreciated" sort of thing

and the pinups and specific kink art ive gotten of her have been an extension of me also going thru a "wait im ace in a really specific way" arc and being able to put those feelings somewhere in a character i was already going to get the tits drawn of anyway.

if you have any questions or any thoughts to lend, im very open to discuss and worldbuild, just keep in mind shes come from a very specific mental state ive been in for a hot moment and not the usual Hotted Woman Sexy Style i tend to make.

[yichens]

#10YearPromise - pingxie blabberings

bc i wasn’t able to answer these questions throughout the week (as i’ve been traveling around while being extremely busy), i decided to just collect all of my answers under one post! i never tire talking about pingxie so this was extremely enjoyable ♥ am also practicing some very shameless self promo in this so be prepared!

thank you for @laireshi​ for organizing this event (i take it’s you alone? am not sure, sorry for my laziness) and being amazing in general ^^ i won’t be able to join as i am still very busy and summer is always pure chaos for me, so i can only hope that other ppl have fun! if you are not aware of 10 Year Promise Pingxie Exchange, you can find the original announcement post here. join in if you have the time and inspiration ^^ 

and then to my answers which i will be placing under the cut bc i don’t want to flood anyone’s dash with me going bonkers over these two idiots. enjoy tho if you decide to read this :’D ♥

I. What made you ship pingxie?

Back when I got into Reboot bc of ZYL (as has happened to many ppl probably) and then saw stuff about pingxie once I started going through that drama’s tag on tumblr, my first thought about them was that they had to be a crack ship. The way Reboot portrays them as well as their actors and their huuuge age difference affected this a lot, and I was actually cackling at them bc all their moments in Reboot made me just go “oh, socialist brotherhood at its best” in my head. But then I finished watching Reboot’s 1st season (as the 2nd one wasn’t out yet) and started reading some fics. I learned more about them and the canon storyline. I learned how damn devoted they are to each other, and after that, many moments in Reboot gained new meaning in my eyes. So, I think what made me ship pingxie was a mix of Reboot (especially the hallucination moment where Xiaoge dies and Wu Xie loses it bc that’s my jam as I later on became to notice) and then the amazing fics I dug out during that time. After that the love grew stronger as I watched the other dramas, and these days I’m a lost cause. I feel like I spend most of my awake time thinking about these two and their love. They are amazing. I cry rivers for them.

II. Which pingxie version is your favorite?

After finding pingxie, I fell in love with them properly during TLT2. There is just something about that stage of their relationship for me, the stage where both of them are still very tentative about everything but they have deep down accepted that they’re tied now. Wu Xie is figuring out so many things, coming to terms with being betrayed by his uncle and slowly realizing that something bigger is going on behind the scenes. Meanwhile, Xiaoge is learning how to trust Wu Xie and how to accept that he cannot leave this naïve boy behind. It feels very fragile, and I have so many emotions about TLT2 bc of this. Xiaoge is so soft and feels very multilayered. Wu Xie is still his naïve self but is slowly gaining some sharper edges as he comes to face the cruel world. I like how Cheng Yi and Hou Minghao have portrayed this dynamic. Also, TLT2 is just very extra with all the pingxie scenes, who would be able to resist loving them? So, I have to admit that my favorite pingxie is these two, tho Ultimate Note comes very, very close.

III. What’s your favorite pingxie headcanon?

Headcanons are a bit hard for me as I don’t know enough of the canon. I have not read the novels so most of the story I’ve just patched together from all the bits I’ve read from somewhere (here, on twt, in fics) and through the scenes the dramas have shown me. I feel like the whole world is lowkey made of headcanons for me :’D But hmm, my favorite pingxie headcanon… I’d say there are two and then one bonus bc it’s more a Wu Xie related headcanon than just pingxie. The first one is that the pingxie confession happens after the Bronze Gate. It feels like the only moment when they’re both ready for such a thing. I’d say Xiaoge comes to realize his own feelings a lot earlier and he might tell something to unconscious Wu Xie before leaving for ten years, but he will not actually leave Wu Xie with such a burden. He doesn’t want to ask anything when it sounds like he doesn’t even believe that Wu Xie will be willing to wait for him, and I’d say that for him, his feelings are going to be fine even if Wu Xie never learns about them. He might even wish that Wu Xie never learns about them bc he’s not able to promise much as an immortal and amnesiac being (he outlives Wu Xie, most likely forgets him). For Wu Xie however, I’d say he needs time. He really is way too naïve and I’d say that he needs those ten years to realize that he’s in love with his best friend. I dunno who confesses first after Xiaoge returns but I think that only after that decade their relationship is “mature” enough to hold the weight of a confession (even if I also love to play around with the thought of them getting together during the events of Ultimate Note bc that drama offered many good chances for that). Another headcanon for me is that Xiaoge will find a way to die when Wu Xie does. After learning about them more, I feel like Reboot implies this too. Xiaoge is very accepting of Wu Xie’s death but in the last moments, when he really thinks that this is going to be it for Wu Xie, he hesitates. We see a spark of desperation there, and I’ve come to think that his initial plan, the plan he came up with once he got that call from Wu Xie and knew he would join Wu Xie on his last adventure, was to see this through for Wu Xie’s sake and then leave and die alone. I don’t know how much there would be left for Zhang Qiling after Wu Xie is gone. I feel like this is also what Wu Xie fears. But would he really resent Xiaoge for joining him in death after living such a long and hard life? I’d say no and I’d say that even Pangzi accepts this as one of the most likely outcomes. The bonus one then feels very personal to me. I don’t usually talk about this bc I feel so unsure of even mentioning this but I’ve seen others with similar thoughts so am sharing! I’ve never before gotten any vibes about a character’s sexuality in a drama I’ve watched but Reboot Wu Xie looked at me once in the eye and all I could hear was my brain yelling “asexual”. So, that is just my personal headcanon for Wu Xie. He’s ace and proud of it. He can flirt etc. but sex makes him go naah. He doesn’t need it or want it. He can appreciate beauty and hot ppl without wanting to sleep with them and I think his relationship with Xiaoge fits very well into this. I don’t have any personal experiences with being ace but I feel like Wu Xie has read the name once, shrugged and gone, “guess that’s me” and continued on with his life. He’s badass like that and I love him for it. (take a very relevant meme lol from this post)

IV. What’s the ideal pingxie date?

Ah, christ. I dunno if I’ve ever thought about them going on a date? In the middle of tomb raiding, hospital trips and fighting against powers bigger than themselves, I’ve rarely seen any time for them to do something like that lol. But after Ultimate Note, I’ve thought about star gazing a lot. Just them, the infinite night sky and some lonely hilltop. They would probably take a blanket with them, huddle together and talk about things in hushed voices. Wu Xie would go on a ramble about all the constellations and their meanings and mythology behind them and Xiaoge would just nod at him and watch Wu Xie talking. Maybe he would offer some tidbits in the middle of the rambling, making Wu Xie smile brightly. It would be relaxing and comfortable and loving. They would make out a lil bit. Would maybe lie down and play with each other’s hair. All their worries would feel insignificant. Wu Xie would fall asleep for a moment and Xiaoge would wake him up with a kiss to get him moving again so that they don’t need to sleep on the cold ground. They would return home and drink something warm and then go to sleep, cuddled together and happy. relevant edit x

V. What’s your favorite pingxie getting together scenario?

I guess I already talked about this a bit but let me elaborate then! As said, I’d see it happening after the Bronze Gate. I am not sure if it would be right away (they’re both going through so much trauma at that point) or if it would happen after Reboot (maybe we would still need Wu Xie almost dying for them to get their shit together), but I’d say it happens in a rush either way. It’s one of those “I have to tell you something before it’s too late” -type of moments. Or one of those “Bc I love you, you idiot!” -type of moments. I feel like I keep thinking that maybe Wu Xie would have to confess first bc as said, Xiaoge wouldn’t like to burden Wu Xie with his feelings when there’s so little he can give in the sense of normalcy. But then again, I have written a oneshot where Xiaoge is the first one to confess and that always feels better for me. That at some point Xiaoge feels secure enough to tell Wu Xie about his own feelings. That he feels confident and comfortable enough to say it out loud while still expecting nothing in return bc he knows that Wu Xie won’t abandon him either way. But no matter how that happens, I always see it as this dam breaking. The emotions finally become too strong. Something happens that reminds them that life is too short. Something happens that makes them finally talk it out and ah, Pangzi can finally take a break, what a joy

VI. What’s your favorite pingxie moment?

Every adaptation has its own good moments so let me make a list (like I saw someone else do too):

The Lost Tomb:

Xiaoge rescues Wu Xie from the shibie

Wu Xie worrying over unconscious Xiaoge plus taking care of him in the hotel room

The Pingxie MomentTM aka Xiaoge saving Wu Xie from falling and then cradling the boy to his chest while thumb rubbing his shoulder

The Lost Tomb 2:

Xiaoge revealed to be Baldie and Wu Xie yelling at him about it

Lowkey the whole underwater tomb arc bc holy shit that’s gay

Wu Xie losing it when Xiaoge doesn’t come up from the underwater tomb, diving after him and then almost dying himself + Pangzi getting angry at him for being stupid

pingxie ft. magical skype in the bronze tree cave (and Xiaoge being emo about the 1000yo warrior guy right before that)

Xiaoge rescuing Wu Xie from drowning (they shared air, you cannot convince me otherwise) + Wu Xie giving Xiaoge his watch in the hospital (relevant edits x x)

Wu Xie’s face when he sees Zhang Buxun in the coffin bc I love pain :)

Xiaoge not shooting Wu Xie despite not remembering him in the mountain village

Wu Xie grabbing Xiaoge’s jacket after being kidnapped and the Iron Triangle reunites in that old Chen guy’s cabin, asking, “Is that you?” from Xiaoge to make sure that he remembers again while looking like the biggest puppy (relevant edit x)

also some relevant memes x

Ultimate Note:

The hand over mouth reunion in the Golmud Sanatorium

“Xiaoge will ignore anyone else but you”

Xiaoge pretending he isn’t Losing ItTM throughout the whole time Wu Xie is in the Devil’s City with A-Ning

more hand over mouth with the gigantic snake

“The goddess has ascended”

Wu Xie protecting Xiaoge after he returns from the jade meteorite 

“Do you remember me?” “Wu Xie.”

Wu Xie promising to help Xiaoge find his memories no matter what bc Xiaoge’s business is Wu Xie’s business 

“Maybe you can return home with a wife today.” Wu Xie: proceeds to stare at Xiaoge, horrified

“Take me home.”

The sword gifting scene (especially Xiaoge denying the possibility of him killing Wu Xie or them harming each other, relevant edits x x)

other relevant edits for ultimate note x x

Reboot:

Wu Xie telling Xiaoge about his sickness and then Xiaoge coming back and promising to join Wu Xie on his trip (relevant edit x)

the death hallucination bc am a masochist 

Wu Xie’s death dream where Xiaoge calls to him but then accepts his choice to move forward bc am a masochist pt. 2

pingxie reunion in the Thunder City forest where Xiaoge saves Wu Xie & co. from the poisonous gas 

the moment in Thunder City where Wu Xie sits outside at night, eating the peanuts Pangzi gave him and then notices Xiaoge, offering him the peanuts and smiling 

when Xiaoge leaves for the last time and then gets reunited with healed Wu Xie against all odds

the train scene and their softest smiles to each other  

Time Raiders:

Wu Xie being the best bean and just wanting to befriend this mysterious man while seeing right under his skin and making Xiaoge baffled and fall in love in approximately 0.5 seconds

Xiaoge, catch! *proceeds to save only Wu Xie when they fall into that shibie horror chamber*  

Xiaoge’s desperation to save Wu Xie from the crumbling ground 

their death waltz at the end of the movie plus Xiaoge’s sacrifice

+ Sand Sea: 

“Don’t you dare call him Xiaoge!” 

Wu Xie offering his friends and then himself as comfort to Li Cu when he’s scared while smiling very softly at the memory of Xiaoge 

“But isn’t his surname Wu?” Hei Xiazi: You have seen nothing yet, you sweet summer child

Wu Xie talking about Xiaoge’s past in the temple (aka the Tibetan Sea Flower story bc I just adore how pretty they’ve made those scenes) 

VII. What is the best gift Wu Xie and Xiaoge could give each other?

I haven’t really thought about this type of stuff either bc we have already seen a ton of gifts being exchanged! I love the watch Wu Xie gives to Xiaoge in TLT2 as mentioned (it’s so silly but also so sweet) and I love it that Wu Xie gifts Xiaoge with a new sword in Ultimate Note. Also, I feel like I can count the food Wu Xie leaves for Xiaoge in Ultimate Note and that one moment where Xiaoge offers his knife for Wu Xie as a “pen”. They would give anything for each other as long as the other asked (which they never do) so I dunno what type of gift would matter the most. As it’s so hard to say, let me talk about one more headcanon that I’ve been thinking about ever since the infamous Bazaar photoshoot for Ultimate Note/XYL & ZSX. So, we see them having matching rings and necklaces in that photoshoot. I think jewelry would be kind of difficult for Xiaoge to wear when he needs to fight, as jewelry could be a hindrance in that type of situation But my brain won’t shut up about “pingxie married!!!” when I ask this question from it. To be honest, I do not see pingxie getting married in the traditional sense. They don’t need something like that after everything they’ve gone through. But I like to play around with the thought of promise rings. Just them exchanging rings for fun, for their own sakes, to have something concrete that reminds them of their promise to each other and of their feelings. Maybe even Xiaoge could wear that ring under his gloves idk. But am a sucker for that thought so my answer to this is then simply: a ring. relevant edits x x

if you read this far, thank you so much! I hope this gave you something and thank you once more for organizing this and allowing everyone to share their love for pingxie ^^ ♥

[fenfyre]

Roped In - Part III

Part I    Part II

Before he could revise his answer though Marco's eyes caught his gaze and the warm smile calmed him inexplicably.

"Don't worry, we'll start slow. Less is more and the pictures will look great either way", he smiled softly, then moved to pull up a small bench that was so low to the ground it might as well have stood somewhere to be used for meditation.

"Why don't you sit over here for now?", he offered, gesturing at the bench and watching with kind, patient eyes as Eren walked across the mats that covered the ground throughout the room and sank down on the stool in an easy, cross legged seat. It was comfortable with his hips raised up slightly, a position he could easily hold for a while. Which would be necessary if he had understood them correctly. The art of shibari was not to be rushed and even an expert teacher such a Jean would need his time to weave his delicate prison.

The thought alone was already making him nervous again, eyes flicking over to Jean who was watching him in turn. Then his attention was captured by Marco walking over to another shelf where he could make out a simple stereo.

"We would have just installed bluetooth speakers", he explained as his fingers traced the backs of lined up cd cases. "But we liked the look of an actual stereo much better. We always tell people to bring their favourite music for our workshops and we can play it in the back while they practise." He picked a case the cover of which Eren did not recognize and slipped the disc into the stereo.

The music that started up a moment later was calm and folky, a bright acoustic guitar, a clean voice. Something comfortable but not too distracting to fill the silence. For a moment Eren wondered if they had any Queen or AC/DC but then understood why they probably had not.

Jean had told him he would have to sit still for a long time and music like that would not exactly promote his stillness in the long run. The soothing folk singer and their acoustic guitar were much more helpful in that matter.

"Alright", Jean finally murmured next to him and Eren’s attention snapped back to him. He stood there completely at ease, weighing one of the long, green rope bundles in his hand and regarding it thoughtfully. Then he nodded to himself.

"We'll start with a simple forearm bind to warm up and get you used to what's happening", Jean explained and as he spoke and walked over towards Eren, coming to sit in a cross legged position right across from him, there was certain warmth seeping into his voice, his expression and movements. A warmth that had not been there before and while it did not replace the casual confidence it seemed to smooth the edges, turning Jean more approachable than he had been a moment before.

This was his workshop face, Eren understood. The friendly, benevolent teacher he could be just as he could be the almost cocky studio owner who knew his worth and his achievements. And while Eren liked both these new sides to his friend he preferred the warmer, more approachable one. Even though he could not be quite sure if he might not change his opinion later.

"I'll be careful not to pull the rope too tight for now but if at any point you feel any discomfort or pain you tell me immediately. Especially if you feel anything going cold or numb, okay?"

Eren nodded hung up on Jean's for now for a moment. Then he took one last sip of his tea and handed the mug over to Marco who was taking it with a soft smile and placing it on a nearby shelf. This was it. They were getting started.

"If you have questions or are unsure about anything let me know. If we need to stop for whatever reason you tell me and I'll take care of it."

For some reason that last part went straight to Eren's gut as a hot pull that left him feeling fluttery and slightly breathless. On some level he had known we would hand himself over to Jean, give himself into his friend's care. But to hear it like that, to think about just how dependent he would be of him ... it shouldn't excite him this much.

"Don't worry, you're in good hands", Marco added, maybe having misinterpreted Eren's stunned silence. "Jean is very experienced and I'll have an eye on you two as well. If we need to get you out of a bind quickly we have these." With a casual movement he held up a pair of safety scissors he then placed back on the shelf he had gotten them from.

"We do", Jean nodded, gaze wandering from Marco to Eren in one calm, attentive sweep. Eren had never seen him look at anything or anyone the way he did at Eren that moment. "But I don't think we'll need them. You just keep talking to me if anything feels off and otherwise try to enjoy the ride. This is supposed to be fun. So don't get into your head too much."

That was easy for him to say with his years of experience and those eyes that seemed to see right through Eren and his flighty nerves. Eren swallowed and tried to gave a firm nod, still hung up on that intoxicating air of control and confidence his friend exuded. But it was no use. They were here now. They might as well start what they had all gathered for.

"Okay", Eren finally nodded even though he could feel the heavy thud of his own heart against his ribs. "I'll let you know if anything feels off. Let's try this and get some nice pictures."

~

Part IV

~

Commissions | Kofi | AO3 | twitter | pillowfort

[loumandliker]

hey - this is one of the mods of the bi jon project. we don't actually dislike or disagree with pan jon at all, we just want to make a project focused on and celebrating bisexuality. our carrd is a bit rambling, but frankly we were trying our best/overcompensating to try and make sure people didn't misunderstand us and do - well, this. our intentions are good, and it's really kind of disenheartening to see all the hate we've gotten for what was meant to be a positive project. (1)

you're under no obligation to answer these, but i saw some of your posts in the tag and felt like reaching out because you did give us even the tiniest bit of slack in good faith. honestly, if you have any advice about what in our carrd is so overwhelmingly bad, we'd be happy to hear it. we've been trying to respond to the overwhelming amount of criticism we've got in a positive way, and take peoples' suggestions. (2)

as for why 'no anti-antis' was at the bottom of our rules list, it's legitimately bc we were trying so hard to be preventative about this negativity that we forgot to add it when we first posted the blog, and just remembered later. again, you're under no obligation to answer these, i just feel like no one's really actually letting us defend ourselves/are taking things in as bad faith a way as possible. (3)

im not exactly sure how the posts showed up in the tag bc ive been very purposefully not tagging them, also ive blocked all of you back (not sure why you blocked me if you actually want feedback, so it seems more like you just want free positive pr and not actual feedback) so its unlikely youll see whatever it is that i reply to this but whatever. 

the issues have all been repeatedly brought up to you so i dont really see how me repeating all of them once again could help. when i last looked at the cardd the things that stood out immediately included. 

pitting ace & bi identities and people against each other REPEATEDLY,  

starting off with a guilt trippy tone and maintaining it throughout (in my experience this is the #1 best way to receive backlash because people do not want to participate in events where you feel like youre being guilted into it, which going into scrutinizing detail over there not being enough content and passing judgement onto authors or artists over it is something that comes across as guilt trippy.),

repeatedly equating asexuality with sex repulsion (not to get into the misleading information about modteam aspec identity breakdowns, since you claimed that 3/4 of the team are aspec, which is technically correct, but what you didnt say was that only one is acespec. surely you know that [allosexual] aro and [alloromantic] ace are not interchangeable) and calling using biromantic over bisexual a “misunderstanding” of the identity as if how to define romantic vs sexual attraction (how to divide, if or if not to divide, use interchangeably different labels) isnt a deeply personal choice ace people who experience romantic attraction make, 

claiming that bisexual jon is canon (he isn’t. this is why people are suspicious of anti-other mspec identities sentiments. which theyre right, if youll be so kind as to stick around til the last paragraph) and repeatedly implying that the reason there isnt “enough” content centering bi jon because the aces are simply unable to not fixate on his asexuality (again, pitting identities against each other),

making the banned ship list way needlessly confusing and including ships that dont even include jon to it, which simply comes across as some kind of a list of bad ships, idk. a way to bypass this would simply be to say “we are looking for portrayals of healthy relationships!” and that couldve just been it. if you felt that that wouldnt exclude specific ships (eg. jondaisy that a lot of people write as a relationship between trauma survivors who have done very bad things trying to get better and learning to trust each other) it is possible to simply say “the modteam is squicked[/triggered] by ships with daisy/elias/peter and we’d like to read all of the works submitted so we’re asking not to receive submissions with those ships.” hating ships is literally completely normal but making rules hard to parse is going to attract questions, especially when the implication is that ships are excluded on the grounds of morality, and a blatant power difference ship (jonelias) is equated with jondaisy, which is from what ive seen almost exclusively shown to be a relationship between equals. that makes people EXTREMELY confused about where the line is. thats why youre getting so many questions about this.  

in general the carrd was spotty, guilt trippy, and needlessly moralizing where it definitely did not need to be. the key to getting people to engage without getting backlash is to make the event seem fun. when your carrd is filled with stuff about unrelated negative stuff people are not going to think it’s a fun event at all. 

and none of this even gets into the fact that at least one of the mods has a history of open hostility against pan people. i heard through the grapevine that he has since made a fauxpology about it, but frankly it already shone through in the language used in the event descriptions. its extremely hard to take any of this is good faith when it is easy to see that one of the organizers is quite fucking clear about thinking pansexuality is biphobic and the carrd is or at least used to be full of anti-pan (and other mspec identity) dogwhistles, and is notorious in some of the tma fic author circles for being extremely fucking nasty about trans men writing fic he doesn’t like to the point of pretending that we’re all cis people (in case youre not keeping track that is misgendering us by implication) because he doesn’t like it. i think some of you (or maybe all of you? idk) in general could stand to examine whether your engagements and participations in the fandom have been at all about having fun or adding positivity to anything, or simply making posts about what other people are doing wrong. it seems that every post i see from anyone in this group is guilt trippy and authoritative, and sadly this translated directly into the event. 

when youre, say, a trans man whose first touch to one of the mods was a post about how fic where trans men have piv sex with cis men is hurting him personally and making it a moral issue and not a matter of a simple preference to the point where he feels comfortable making claims about the trans men (and transmasc nonbinary people) writing fic about trans characters re: their gender or whether theyre fetishizing trans men, your willingness to engage in good faith with an event hosted by him that features numerous red flags is not going to be unconditional. 

im sorry to hear that it has been bad for your mental health, and idk whats fucking going on with this event anymore, but my good faith interpretations have diminished significantly since i saw the shit tmc specifically has been saying about pansexual people and pansexuality as an identity label. i have no clue where the rest of you stand but tmc has repeatedly, consistently shown himself to be unable to act in good faith towards anyone other than people who agree with him.  

[dreamnotnapper]

ok, listen. i will gladly hivemind about many things, but one of the things i will never hivemind about is mcc

i am way too invested in that block game tournament to not have my own opinions, and trust me i have a Lot of opinions after sapnaps stream

(this will be very long, feel free to ignore. also, this is all typed up on mobile so i am so sorry)

the most prominent things is when he said he thinks he should be an s-tier, and when he said he thinks cyan is the best team

1. i dont think sapnap is an s-tier. god forbid i post this on twitter where everyone thinks he should be, but genuinely i dont. he is definitely the closest non s tier player to s tier, but i dont think hes s tier yet. i dont have stats on hand (bc im not a Nerd /j), but comparatively, sapnap isnt as good. hes one of the best pvpers and parkour players, yes. but hes pretty weak in build mart, rocket spleef and bingo, and hes decent at ace race and hole in the wall. a question we have to ask ourselves when ranking sapnap, is he at the same level as the other s-tiers? is he as good as pete, quig, fruit, techno, and dream? so far, all current s-tiers have: won at least 1 mcc, had 1st individual at least once and have 3000+ average coins. sapnap has only achieved the first. another thing is that sapnap isnt balance the way an s-tier is balanced. most notably, pete, fruit and quig are all balanced with weaker teams. pete and fruit are commonly teamed with hermits, when not with hermits pete is with b tiers or below, and quig is usually put on for fun teams (techno hasnt played in a canon mcc in a while so i cant rly say how hes balanced nowadays). sapnap isnt balanced this way, he isnt put on weaker teams. if anything, hes put on teams where someone else helps take up a leader role. mcc15, he'll most likely co-lead with dream, mcc14 he had punz, mcc13 he had dave krtzyy, (i dont remember his mcc12 team), mcc11 he had dream, etc.

so sapnap hasn't gotten 1st individual or 3000+ average coins, and scott doesnt balance him the way he balances the other s-tiers therefore i dont think sapnap is an s-tier. however, if he continues improving the way he is now, i believe he will be s-tier eventually. dont say that i'm too hard on him and that my requirements are too harsh because i'm a firm believer that once a player is s-tier, they dont leave (unless they just fuck up that bad, in multiple consecutive mccs)

2. i think sapnaps prediction of cyan being 1st is wrong. first of all, theres a reason why nearly the entire subreddit predicts cyan to be lower on the leaderboard, and its not because the subreddit is biased or playing an elaborate prank. i think both sapnap and dream really overestimate cyans abilities, especially with 2 new players. both dream and sapnap agreed that wisp is cracked, 5up is cracked, antfrost isnt bad, and scott is decent. the stats kind of do tell a different story though. again, i dont have the stats on hand, i only have what i remember from posts ive seen on the subreddit so take what i say here with a grain of salt. i dont think wisp is as cracked as dreamnap think he is. wisp has only played in (iirc, and if the subreddit was correct) 3 events, and his first 2 were very average with his mcc14 performance being the outlier. another thing is that they have two new players. that is not going to be easy. when you look at new players that joined after mcc began getting more competitive, youll see that they always underperform during their debut mcc. take illumina, for example. illumina is one of the best speedrunners in minecraft. he spent hours practicing and studying vods to optimize his performance. iirc, his first mcc he got 17th. that is already impressive, especially for a debut but his next placement was 5th. that is a huge improvement. 5up and antfrost are no illuminas, they dont have the same skill that he does. if illumina couldnt get top 15 during his debut, there is no way 5up and antfrost will during theirs like dream and sapnap predicted they would. the last thing i wanted to say about this is that 5up can practice all he wants on the practice server. he can get himself acquainted with ace race mechanics and the environment of battle box and parkour tag, but the practice server =/= the real event. no amount of time on the practice server can prepare new players to the atmosphere and pressure of the real event

thats my rant over, thank you if you stuck around. also really sorry if you stuck around, i doubt my thoughts were very coherent as its 4:30am. but yeah, i just wanted to get my thoughts out because sapnap and dream discussing mcc predictions made me very frustrated. especially since their predictions were all based on their initial thoughts on the teams and absolutely zero statistical analysis. absolute himbos, the two of them /lh

[ham-sandwich-lol]

about me (updated)

the name's emma, or stank if ya want

⚠️ before we get started, if you see any tags including my username or anything like it, or my nickname "stank", please don't use it. ⚠️

some quick facts bout yours truly *gay sparkle*

my current special interest is the octonauts

i write books on wattpad: emmaslaffytaffy

i play guitar (very seggc, i know)

im bisexual (questioning if im on the aro-ace spectrum)

im an autistic person! (even better, with adhd too hhhh)

i draw too

now for the boundaries

anyone = green, only mutuals = orange, no plz = red

calling me by my nicknames

messaging me to talk/vent/get to know me

spam liking my posts

liking my old posts/reblogging my stuff

asking to see my face

asking for other social media platforms

requesting art/art trades

fanart of things like redraws, or art for my books or something like that (ive never gotten that before so that would acc be so cool- just plz tag me in it i'd love to see it!)

sexualizing me

bringing hate onto my platforms

venting in my replies (if you need to vent please message me i'm always here for you) if the post has nothing to do with you venting, please don't do it.

sending me links (to things like youtube videos)

copying my art style/or the way i draw characters. this depends. if you originally had an idea that is very similar to mine and you had no idea i did it too and i point it out, please just tell me! i don't want to intrude on you for having an idea. but if you base characters off my designs and you say nothing about it, that isn't cool. adding small things that i also did are okay though!

sending me things that sexualize characters. if its a sexuality headcanon of some sort, that's perfectly fine. but if its sexualizing a character, please stay out of my messages.

stealing my art. this isn't okay ever, no matter the artist.

bringing politics onto my page. as a (somewhat) far leftist with many republican family members, its already shitty in my home life. don't make it worse.

again, please don't use my personal tags either, such as tags that include my nickname (stank) in them, or my username

this includes my art tags, book tags, vent tags, etc.

[theprodigypenguin]

➥: nap BLEASE FEED ME THE ACEDEU FOOD I LOVE YOU YAAAAAAAAHHHHHH

This took a hot minute to complete, as well as several rewrites because it was NOT coming out the way I wanted. This is maybe my fourth edit of it asdfghjkl catch me being a perfectionist for a ONESHOT.

It came out being more fluffy than whumpy I’ll admit, but I still hope you enjoy!!!!

Words: 1737

----------

“They still in there?”

The question tore Ace from his deep, dissociated train of thought, making him jerk from his position perched on top of a wooden crate with his eyes locked intensely at the door to the infirmary. He forced his eyes away from the door to acknowledge Thatch, who was standing with a plate of food in one hand, the other stuffed into his pocket. Ace eyed the steaming meat for an instant before looking back at the door, arms folded atop of his knees.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sheesh, it’s been what, twenty hours?” Thatch set the food beside Ace and leaned off on one leg, folding his arms. “Must’ve been worse than what we thought.” Thatch looked between Ace and the food. “You should eat something.”

“Later,” Ace said quickly, hands gripping his elbows and a frown weighing his lips. “I’m not hungry right now.”

“Ah come on, we both know that’s a lie.”

“I’ll eat when Deuce eats,” Ace decided, though he did cast a longing look to the meal Thatch had meticulously prepared just for him.

He felt too anxious to eat, even if he was hungry. He couldn’t stop thinking about the medical situation going down behind the infirmary door.

Twenty hours ago Marco had roused the couple from their sleep in the middle of the night, banging a fist against the door until someone opened it. He’d rushed out a frantic explanation that the thirteenth division had returned from their mission with near fatal injuries, and that they needed every medical staff available to help. Deuce had practically fallen into his clothes before stumbling after Marco, still half asleep and rubbing the sand from his eyes, telling Ace to go back to sleep — that he’d be back soon.

Ace hadn’t really been expecting his partner back that night, but soon ended up being almost a full day. It was getting dark out, most of the crew had retired to their quarters unless they were one watch.

Deuce had been in the OR with Marco for hours. He’d been working with barely any sleep, probably no breaks and certainly no food. Ace had stubbornly chosen to fast in solidarity, at least until the infirmary doors opened and Deuce was released from his duties, but it felt like a losing battle.

The aroma of Thatch’s excellent cooking was tempting, so Ace buried his mouth and nose against his forearms to block out the smell, sending a frustrated glare in the head chef’s direction. Thatch caught his eye and unfolded his arms, placing his hands on his hips and returning the glare.

“Deuce won’t be very pleased if he finds out you’re starving yourself just because you’re worried about him.”

“I’m not starving myself. I missed one meal at best!”

“You missed three. Plus all your usual snacks — and by snacks I mean all those times you sneak into the kitchen to steal food when I’m otherwise occupied and can’t catch you.”

Ace lifted his head in alarm. “I missed three meals?” He turned his head down to look at the food, his stomach making a noise that almost sounded sad. “I guess a little wouldn’t hurt…”

“You better clean the plate; and don’t worry about Deuce and the others. I’ve already got the kitchen working on their next meal. Something to help them regain their energy after going nonstop like this.”

Ace didn’t answer as he put all his focus into eating. The plate was half cleared when the door to the infirmary opened. Ace choked on his mouthful in his haste to get to his feet, shoving the plate into Thatch’s hands and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he eagerly watched Whitebeard’s medical staff shuffle onto the deck.

They all looked exhausted, which Ace had been expecting, but he didn’t spend too much time worrying about them as he swayed side to side on his feet, searching for Deuce. The blue haired doctor was the last to exit the infirmary. Marco walked at his side, a hand on his back to help him walk, and Ace could see why. Deuce looked worse off than the rest of them did. Ace could see the shadows beneath his eyes even with the mask on. Deuce’s eyes looked glassy and unfocused, his shoulders were slumped, and he couldn’t seem to lift his feet from the floor. He was swaying dangerously from side to side, probably only staying upright thanks to Marco’s assistance.

Ace was moving almost instantly, half jogging to meet the duo. He had one hand raised towards Deuce, wanting to pull the other man into his arms, but held back as he looked to Marco for some clarity over the situation. “Hey, are you done? Is everything okay? How are Atmos and the others?”

“Yeah, we’re done finally,” Marco answered, stopping Deuce with a hand on his shoulder. “Everyone’s okay. We almost lost one or two, but managed to keep them on this side of existence for the time being. Do me a favor and get this one back to bed. He’s been on his feet the entire time. Make sure he gets some well earned rest.”

Marco nudged Deuce forward. The younger doctor shuffled in the direction he was led, but the fog in his eyes showed he didn’t know where he was going or recognize where he was. He bumped against Ace, face dropping onto his shoulder, and Ace lifted his arms around him in an embrace.

“Right.” Ace lifted a hand to cradle the back of Deuce’s head, stroking fingers through pale blue hair. “I’ll take care of him. You should lie down too, Marco. You’ve all been up for a while. I think right now is the perfect time for a nap.”

“It’s night,” Thatch commented. “This would be considered bedtime, not naptime.”

“Either way we should all be unconscious right now,” Ace decided, tightening his hold around Deuce and stepping backwards. “Come on, Deu. Let’s get you to bed.”

Deuce seemed to be just aware enough to sort of walk on his own, though he was leaning heavily against Ace the entire time with his face buried into his partner’s neck. Ace kept an arm locked around the middle of Deuce’s back to keep him upright, leading him across the deck towards their room and murmuring the entire way there.

“You did great, I am so proud of you. We’re going to sleep in tomorrow, just the two of us. I mean I haven’t done anything to deserve it, you’re the one who was working and saving lives, but I’m going to sleep in too because that way we can cuddle.”

Deuce murmured something inarticulate that Ace didn’t bother trying to translate. He kicked open the door to their room and carefully led Deuce inside before swinging the door shut with his heel. He didn’t want to let go of Deuce, worried that he was so exhausted he’d simply collapse if the support disappeared, so Ace kept one arm around him the entire time. It wasn’t easy to maneuver Deuce out of his jacket — stripping a deadweight man with one hand was one of Ace’s lesser developed skills — but Ace eventually had Deuce out of his heavy clothing and on the bed.

Deuce seemed to have fallen asleep before his head was even on the pillow, body curled towards Ace’s side of the bed and one hand twisted in the sheets there. Ace was quick to shuck off his boots and shorts so he could lie down beside his lover, lifting Deuce’s arm just enough to wiggle beneath it so he could hold Ace instead of the mattress.

“There you go,” Ace wound his arms around Deuce, hauling him closer and pulling away the mask with gentle fingers — he caressed Deuce’s cheek with his thumb before setting the mask on the desk beside the bed, then turned back to Deuce and pulled him closer. “All cozy now.”

Deuce made a noise as if he was responding to Ace, who tensed up momentarily as the other man shifted under the blankets. Deuce dragged a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. Ace felt his shoulders freeze under his hands as Deuce pressed his palm to his eyes with a soft gasp.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Ace soothed. “I took your mask off.”

Deuce relaxed, sighing and dropping his hand. “Ace…”

“I thought you were completely out, did I wake you up?”

Deuce shook his head. “Sorry. It was probably annoying having to get me to bed.”

“Nah, nothing annoying about it. I love stripping you!”

Deuce must have still been half asleep, because Ace knew that comment would have gotten a reaction if he’d been fully conscious. Instead Deuce hummed, relaxing completely against Ace.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Marco said so.” Ace stroked Deuce’s shoulder with his fingertips. “You did a great job.”

Deuce’s voice dropped to a softer octave. “I was scared… during it. Even though I’m a doctor and I should be used to it. A few of them flatlined during surgery and… I nearly started crying a few times.”

Ace was frowning at the ceiling as Deuce talked, knowing he would probably never confess to feeling vulnerable in any other situation. Ace knew his partner was still less than confident in his abilities as a healer.

In Deuce’s eyes, he was still a drop out medical student — nothing more. Where healing was involved, Deuce always thought he could be doing more, or doing better, and the only reason he couldn’t was because he dropped out of school before learning the necessary skills.

Ace thought that was bullshit, but he couldn’t tell Deuce to stop feeling worthless. All he could do was support Deuce and stay optimistic in the hopes that one day Deuce would see just how invaluable and irreplaceable he was.

“Yeah, but guess what? Marco said everyone survived, and you’re part of the reason that was possible. You helped save our friend’s lives. I couldn’t have done that. I don’t even know how to give someone an IV.”

Deuce hummed again, already sleeping again, and Ace laughed softly. He turned his head to press a kiss to Deuce’s hairline, then pressed his cheek against his lover’s forehead and shut his eyes.

“You’re so much more amazing than you think. I wish you could see what I see.”

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day twelve

Prompt #12: “Watch me.”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Melissa McCall, Scott McCall

Words: 1306

Author’s Note: A series of four vignettes featuring Melissa & Scott’s relationship, culminating with the fallout of 2x10 (Fury). Fluff that slowly descends into angst. Melissa POV.

>> i saw your eyes (they looked like they were mine)

“Watch me, mama!”

Scott’s head just barely peaks up over the counter, his hands reaching up to grab for her attention. “Look!”

Melissa laughs, gently hip checking him to the side so she can cover the bolillos with a towel to rise. “Just a minute, mijo, I’m coming. You don’t want flies to get into your food, do you?”

Scott pauses, having somehow managed to get flour in his hair already. “Do flies need it?”

“I’m very sure they can get food somewhere that isn’t my house,” Melissa says, dusting Scott’s nose with flour until he falls back, giggling. “Now, what’ve you got for me?”

Scott’s eyes light up as he grabs her by the hand, decorating the floor with even more flour, and drags her into the living room.

“I fixed Roxy!”

The dog in question is sitting placidly on one of the couch pillows, the McCall’s medicine kit open and its contents strewn all over the floor. She’d gotten into a fight with the neighbor’s cat the day they’d gotten her, and while the cut she’d sustained on her ear had long since healed, Scott’s been rather taken with making sure she’s okay ever since.

Which is probably why there appear to be over a half dozen bandaids covering the poor terrier’s ear, along with an incorrectly though painstakingly placed Ace bandage.

“Wow,” she says, making sure to give Roxy a few extra scratches as a reward for her patience. “You do this all by yourself?”

“Yeah!” Scott bends Roxy’s ear up, eager to show off his handiwork. “I even got one on the—scapha, like Dr. Deaton said.”

“Oh ho, I see. Scapha’s a big word.” She moves from ruffling Roxy’s fur to Scott’s hair. “You gonna be doctor someday? Dr. McCall?”

Scott shrugs. “Is that what you do?”

“Sort of, sweetie. No doctorate here, but. Yeah. Close enough.”

“Then I’ll be close enough,” Scott says. “So I can be like you.”

Melissa feels a swell of warmth, and kisses the top of Scott’s head. “You’re already far better than that, mijo. And I’ll be there to watch the whole thing.”

_________________

“Mom.”

Melissa looks up from the pamphlet she’s been reading, and Scott looks so small on the hospital bed. “Yeah, sweetie?”

“Am I breathing?”

Melissa’s heart twists in her chest. “Yeah, baby. You’re breathing. Does your chest feel okay?”

Scott nods, his lips pursed close together. “It felt okay before, too.”

“I know.” The signs were there—the coughing at night, the perpetual fatigue, the muscle and determination for sports but not the stamina. “But you’re okay now, I promise. The doctors have got you fixed all up and you’ve got plenty of medicine in case it happens again.”

Scott frowns, staring down at his hands. “So it’s going to happen again?”

“Not this bad, mijo. Not this bad.” She nods towards the inhaler on his bedside table. “That’s what the medicine’s for, remember?”

She wishes, sometimes, that she didn’t know quite so much about everything that was happening in her baby boy’s body. The bronchodilator via nebulizer to open his airways. Corticosteroid drugs in his IV to lower lung inflammation. Oxygen via nasal cannula to bring his blood oxygen levels back up. The trigger that’d caused the swelling and mucus production to threatened him to begin with, still lurking in his genes to strike at any moment.

Not that she’d tell him that.

“You’re okay, Scott,” she says. “I promise.”

“But what if it happens again while I’m sleeping?”

Melissa sets the pamphlet down and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. She takes his hand into hers. “Then I’ll be here the whole time, okay? If you stop breathing, I’ll make sure you start again.”

Scott bites his lip, tracing patterns on the hospital sheets. “You’ll watch me?”

“I won’t look away for even a second.”

She doesn’t, and Scott sleeps, uninterrupted and unafraid and breathing, through the entire night.

_________________

“You couldn’t have picked literally any other extracurricular?”

Melissa frowns at the dollar signs on the sign-up sheet, mentally tallying the costs of the uniforms, equipment, and not to mention rescue inhalers he’d need to play lacrosse, of all things.

“Lacrosse is like, the football of Beacon Hills!” Scott says, all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I can definitely do this.”

“I don’t know, Scott,” she says. “Your asthma’s been even worse than usual this season, and I don’t want you to commit to something like this and have to bow out halfway through.”

“I won’t,” Scott says, with all the total confidence only a teenager could have.

“Uh-huh.” Melissa sets the paper down and folds her arms over her chest. “Scott, I know you’re angling to get more popular than you were in middle school—”

“Mom!”

“—but I don’t think picking something that’s going to be—” Melissa hesitates, fishing for the most tactful word—“unconducive to your health is the best way to go about it.”

Hurt blossoms across Scott’s face. “You don’t think I can do it.”

‘Oh, no,” Melissa says. “You wander around the house without a shirt on more than enough for me to know you’ve got the muscle tone for it.”

“Mom.”

Scott’s incredibly tenacious once he gets his mind set on something—which is what moves his chances up from snowball’s chance in hell to snowball’s chance in, say, Nevada.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” she says.

“And you won’t. I can do this, mom—just watch me.”

It’s a bad idea. From definitely a financial standpoint, and probably a health one, too..

She sighs. “What time to tryouts start?”

“You’re coming?”

It’s painfully obnoxious and incredibly adorable how quickly he goes from sullen and determined to exuberant.

“Yeah, you dumbass,” she says. “If you’re going to go on some ill-fated mission to rise through the ranks at risk of life and limb, I’ll be there.”

His answering grin is so bright, she thinks he might actually do it after all.

_________________

“So.” Melissa licks her lips, fingers threaded together on the counter in front of her. “You’re a werewolf.”

They’re standing in the kitchen, the single unburnt bulb in the ceiling light shining down on them. Scott’s slouching, or maybe hunching, in the corner of the room; the island staking out the neutral ground between them. He’s not meeting her eyes, or maybe she’s the one that’s not meeting his.

Scott clears his throat. “Yeah. I’m, uh—a werewolf.”

It feels like the setup for an interrogation.

(She wishes she knew which of them was on trial.)

“Uh-huh.” Melissa taps her fingernails on the granite, waiting for him to expound. He doesn’t. “Okay, so how does it—is this a once-a-month thing? You change when the moon’s out?”

"No. I can—I can shift whenever I want, now.”

Now implies it hasn’t always been that way. Now implies a then. Now implies her son’s been a werewolf (a werewolf) for more than just a few days, and she hasn’t noticed anything other than a few slipped grades and out-of-character absences. Now means he did all that without her.

“Do you want to watch me do it?”

Melissa flinches before she can think twice about; Scott flinches in return. “Watch…?”

“Watch me shift,” he says. “I can control it really well, I could—we could just do claws maybe, or my eyes?”

Scott’s beautiful, deep brown eyes stare hopefully at her, eyes he got from her, and the thought of them turning the angry gold he got from someone else hurts too much.

“That’s okay, baby,” she says. “Maybe—maybe not right now.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure.”

His lips quirk up in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and Melissa can’t get her mouth to open far enough to handle the promises he needs.

She says nothing.

[emybain]

Settling In

this is the first time ive ever written a sequel to an ask fic so i hope yall are happy. this is a sequel to I’m Nova. Nova Artino if you havent read that. 

ao3

Simon watched the children play in the backyard from the kitchen window. At the stove, Hugh was making dinner. The kids were taking turns pushing one another on the swing set, Adrian letting Nova have longer turns before she insisted on switching. The sentiment brought a smile to Simon’s face. 

It had been a couple weeks since Simon found the girl, only eight years old, in the hands of the Anarchists. After spending a few days in the hospital wing at headquarters, Simon and his husband decided it was best to take her home with them. That way, she would be safe from the hungry eyes of the media. It was frustrating getting her to bed every night, as she refused to set a foot in the guest room until she was alone, but Hugh and Simon were afraid of her running away and wanted to keep an eye on her. At least Adrian loved the idea, having already grown fond of the girl in the short time they had known one another. Their friendship was ironic, in a sad way, but Simon didn’t like to think about it. Georgia had died two years ago, yet her death was still a knife to the side. 

“What are we going to do about her?” Simon turned from the window to Hugh, who was pushing around sausage in a pan. 

“Hm?” Hugh shifted his body so he faced Simon a bit more.

“What are we going to do about Nova?” He pushed his glasses up and crossed his arms. 

The look Simon got was almost comical. “Aren’t we going to keep her? She has nowhere else to go.”

Simon released a soft sigh. “You know we can’t do that, Hugh. Taking on Adrian was one thing. We’re his godparents and we’re financially stable to handle one prodigy child. But two?” He shook his head. 

Hugh turned the stove off. “She’s a prodigy? How did you find that out?”

There was a screech from outside, and they both peered out to see Nova stand up from the bottom of the slide, covered in mud and a grin on her face. Adrian stood at the top, laughing. 

“Why else would the Anarchists be hiding her?” Simon lowered his voice, although they were the only two in the house. “Ace killed her family because David came to us. Why didn’t he kill her, too?” 

Hugh removed his apron and began getting out bowls and silverware. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that. But, Love,” he paused, closing the cabinets, “where is she going to go? I mean, don’t you feel as responsible for her as with Adrian?” 

A pang hit Simon’s chest. Hugh had a point; they had failed to protect the Artinos the same night Georgia died. It was only right for them to make sure she stayed safe. They owed that much to David and his wife. 

“I know.” Simon looked down at the checkered tile. “But will she trust us? Wouldn’t she be better off with a non-Renegade family? You’ve seen the looks she gives us. How she refuses to sleep at night if we’re in the room with her. There’s no telling what kind of bullshit the Anarchists have been feeding her. What’s to say she won’t run away or try to murder us in our sleep in the future?”

Hugh narrowed his eyes at him. “Your paranoia is showing again.” He walked forward and kissed Simon lightly. Simon closed his eyes, welcoming his husband’s hold. “We’ll figure it out,” Hugh said once he pulled away. “In the meantime,” he turned toward the cracked open window, “Kids, dinner!”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Simon murmured under his breath as the children entered the kitchen, sweaty and caked in mud from head to toe. 

 ___________

 Nova waited for Adrian in his bedroom, spending her time looking at his collection of comic books on his bookshelves. She missed her home a lot, but at least Adrian was nice. He understood what it was like to be uprooted, at least that’s what Nova could figure out based on their conversations. Still, what would Uncle Ace think about her being with the enemy? They let her family die instead of coming to save them. Surely, Ace was coming up with a rescue plan. At eight years old, there wasn’t much she could do to fight back anyway . Leroy refused for Ingrid to start training her until she was at least ten, so she had useless skills. There was her power, but she was still working on making it stronger. And down in the subway tunnels, it wasn’t like she could practice on the other Anarchists. Before she was kidnapped, Nova had plans to be just like her uncle, to be a powerful prodigy that defends all prodigies from discrimination and annihilates any offenders of equality. 

Her hands fell upon a comic different from the others. This one was just on plain printer paper and appeared to be homemade. She flipped through it, admiring the designs. They were a bit amateur, but good nonetheless. It was incomplete, clear from the half drawn characters on one of the pages. 

The door creaked and she whipped around, only to be met with a slightly startled Adrian. He had fresh pajamas on and held a towel in his hands. 

“Did you make this?” Nova held the comic up, unfazed. “It’s really good. I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Adrian pushed the towel into a basket and came forward, gently snatching the comic out of her hands. Nova noticed how his cheeks lit up. “It’s just something I’ve been working on,” he explained, shrugging and putting it back on the shelf. “Just a story.”

“Can I read it?” 

“No!” Adrian’s eyes widened. “I mean, it’s not done yet, is all. I wouldn’t want you seeing something unfinished.” 

She shot him a weird look and opened her mouth to respond, but Hugh poked his head in.

“Bed time, kids.” He stepped in all the way and started ushering Adrian to his bed. Nova watched as the man sat on the edge of his son’s bed and waited for him to get situated before tucking him in. She averted her eyes when Hugh bent over to plant a kiss on Adrian’s head, while Adrian protested and swatted him away. She quitted the room quietly and made her way down the hall to where they made her sleep, even though she never slept anymore. Not since she was six. Images of Mom and Papà flitted through her head, and she longed to be back in their arms in the safety of their apartment. It hadn’t been much, but it was home. Sometimes, especially recently, Nova thought about running away to the apartment and holing herself inside, but she knew the place would bring back too many bad memories. 

The bedroom was dark and cold when she entered. The upstairs of the house gave her the creeps. Adrian was convinced it was haunted, and said so the first night she came home with them. She had laughed at him then, but night after night of wandering around the room and hallways led to her slowly believing him. It wouldn’t surprise her; Ace was responsible for the murders of the mayor and his family. Any ghosts surely didn’t want Nova there. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time she wasn’t wanted. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and it opened a bit after Nova refused to respond, She didn’t even acknowledge Hugh as she started pulling back the covers, already in the set of pajamas they gave her. 

Nova enjoyed Adrian’s company. She had never had friends her age, or friends at all really, if she didn’t count her family. The Anarchists...weren’t exactly friends either. She knew that they only watched her because Ace ordered them to. Adrian was like her, though. He was nine, but she had a birthday coming up in less than eight months so they were practically the same age. She knew she should hate him for his parents and affiliations, but it wasn’t his fault. That was all he knew. She could tell he was a good person, not like his Renegade parents. Being around them was different than being with Adrian. 

“How are you liking the Everhart-Westwood residence, Nova?” His voice was cheerful. Nova didn’t care. 

She shrugged, playing with the covers. 

Hugh sighed. “Listen, Nova, there are things that you should know about your family, okay?” She glanced at him. He sat on the edge of the bed like he did with Adrian and reached over to pat her shin. “But...I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little older to fully understand. Just know that...that your father would want you here instead of in the subway tunnels, okay? He was a good man and a good friend, unlike his brother who was narcissistic and hotheaded.” Nova deflated, and had to bite back arguing over what he believed was best for her. He was just saying these things to get her to open up and to turn against the Anarchists and her uncle. He didn’t care about her. If he did, her family would still be alive. 

But still…”You knew Papà?”

Hugh smiled, though it was sad. “Yes. And there hasn’t been a day that has passed that I haven’t felt guilt for failing him. For failing you. But that’s a story for another day.”  He paused and stood then, shaking his head. “Do you want to be tucked in? Adrian won’t admit it, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it since we adopted him.”

Nova shook her head, wanting to ask more questions but knowing they would lead to nowhere. 

Hugh left and closed the door behind him softly, leaving her to a dark room and racing thoughts. 

[aromantic-official]

Heyy so ive recently been questioning the romantic side of my id (im also ace) and i was wondering if there was some sort of label for demiromantic, but instead of the attraction felt being romantic, its a queerplatonic attraction? I was almost certain that i was aro until i got close to one of my friends & got a plush on her, and the only other time ive ever gotten a plush was with another one of my close-ish friends,,, yea anyway, thoughts?

So, you can apply the prefixes to whichever form of attraction you wish, so you can use a label like demiqueerplatonic.  Personally, I use demiplatonic because I only get what I’d describe as a squish on people I already feel close to, which sounds similar to what you’re describing.  And yeah, sometimes really strong platonic feelings like that can be confusing, especially when it’s not something you usually feel; when I first got a strong squish I questioned whether it could be considered romantic, but ultimately concluded I interpreted it as platonic and was more comfortable with it being platonic, therefore it was platonic.  But yeah, you can totally use a label like demiqueerplatonic.- Mod Magni

[ohblackdiamond]

liner notes/unused joke summaries for kiss fics (part iv)

Despite what my general dislike of the shift key and my tendency to mock all that I love might imply, I actually overthink everything I write to a great extent. I make no claims to these explanations being in any way enjoyable, but if you wanted to know what I was thinking while writing KISS fic… now you do. Part one can be found here. Part two is here. Part three is here. 

little t&a --If Paul had boobs, they would be big and Gene would want to grab them.

>>Title from a Rolling Stones song of the same name; most of the chapter titles are from another Stones song, “The Spider and the Fly.” I started it during quarantine as a means to occupy myself and destress, and didn’t initially plan on posting it at all. Once I’d written five chapters without having posted it or mentioned it to anyone, I figured, well, I guess this might as well go somewhere, so I put it up. I had the hope that it’d give me something to strive for during the stress of lockdown, and I’d assumed that I wouldn’t ever have that much time to devote to a story again.

There were a couple of things that really inspired me. I’ve always enjoyed sexswaps as a bit of a guilty pleasure, but wanted to do a different take on them-- there’s this tendency for sexswaps to either be wacky hijinks or an excuse to write particularly brutal noncon. There’s also a tendency for the sexswapped character to almost automatically start adopting stereotypically feminine traits he didn’t have prior, with no real reason for it. I wanted to try and avoid all that as much as possible.

... There’s also another tendency for the sexswapped character never getting back to normal, and I wanted to avoid that, too. I mean, c’mon, KISS is supposed to start the Love Gun tour a month after the fic. Paul can’t exactly pull the trigger of a love taco. (Maybe gently brush it a bit...)

I had Paul already cursed for five days at the start of the fic because I thought it would make things easier and allow the plot to advance more quickly. I also felt like it would give him more autonomy-- prior to Gene showing up, he has tried (albeit in small ways) to get a handle on what’s happened to him, and while he’s hermited it up, he hasn’t given up. Autonomy in general was pretty important for me re: Paul. (Incidentally, probably one of my favorite things about this fic is that Paul’s made that poor twelve-year-old kid on his bike buy him sanitary napkins.)

I wanted to explore a couple of other things, too, mostly rock and roll’s (and KISS’ in particular) pretty heinous treatment of women. Gene and Paul argue in the eighties that groupies know the score from the beginning, and even postulates that those relationships are more “honest” than just taking a girl out to dinner. They’re not alone in this (and, of course, as married men, these days they try not to discuss those times at all); almost every band/artist from around that time period will give you the same answer. “The girls know what they’re doing.” I think many of them did know. I also think many of them came into those hotel rooms expecting a lot more than they ever received, and I think plenty of girls ended up at the very least disappointed by their encounters, if not humiliated or worse.

I don’t know if this was successful, but I also wanted to at least try to poke a few holes in celebrity/idol worship as well. Carol’s scathing comments to Paul-- “they [fans] think there’s something you’ve got that they can get at, but there’s not” pretty heavily exemplify behavior I’ve seen at conventions, fan meet-ups, etc. At the end of the day, well, there’s no point in putting them on much of a pedestal. I dunno. I’ve seen some weird crap in the name of fan worship, in and outside of RPS. Keith Richards talks about it in his book-- girls urinating on themselves out of sheer nerves/excitement just at seeing the band, etc., which, while disturbing, had to have given them a sense of being something beyond ordinary (and act accordingly, of course).

I don’t know. I like them a lot, but I can’t hero-worship these guys; they don’t live in the real world. They’re not, ultimately, relatable or accessible despite the billions of photos, the twitter posts, the meet and greets-- any more than they were 40-odd years ago. I think there can be a real danger in thinking they are. I wanted to show that, too, but again, I don’t know if it came across properly.

One of the aspects I really struggled with was getting a good handle on Paul’s innately slippery sense of identity without it overtaking the story entirely. Gene’s very stable identity was a good foil, and it helped that most of “t&a” is from his point of view, rather than Paul’s.

Another place I faltered with was Paul’s outing alone at CBGB. The first draft had the guy in the club slip quaaludes into his drink, but I really didn’t like that at all and felt it took too much control away from Paul/punished him for going out on his own. I thought it’d be more interesting if Paul deliberately took what he knew was a dangerous combination (alcohol + quaaludes) in the hopes that would make him feel better about sleeping with someone he didn’t care about.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, having him do that (and the way the scene with the guy at the club ends) also meant that I couldn’t have him hop right into bed with Gene that night, either, so that accounts for some of the delaying. I was also really wanting to make sure in general that when Gene and Paul finally did go all the way, there wasn’t any feeling of being coerced or pressured. Not that Gene would do either of those things, but I didn’t want him or Paul to be doing it out of any feeling of obligation or hurry; I wanted it to be as natural as possible, under the circumstances. And I wanted, again, Paul’s dubious sense of self and Gene’s ambiguous feelings about Paul(’s boobs) to come into play-- yes, Paul, now you, too, can take Gene on the amazing technicolor dreamdate you’ve been fantasizing about for the last seven years! Or, you know, not. Overall, there are some pacing issues and the story slows down considerably after Gene takes Paul home from CBGB, but I like to hope that most of the scenes add something.

There were a couple of secondary plotlines that got scrapped because I couldn’t get them to fit well enough with the narrative. One of them was Paul’s very troubled relationship with his sister, Julia. There’s a fair amount of references to her scattered throughout, and Paul brings her up on several occasions, generally without much provocation, and generally at mildly odd moments (at Central Park and immediately after getting drawn by Gene being the standouts). There was an initial draft of the chapter in which Ace calls Paul, where Julia’s the one calling Paul instead (after having gotten his number from their parents). I wanted to at least get the start of a reconciliation going between them. Ultimately I scrapped it because I couldn’t get it to flow with the main plot and never felt like I’d ever explored it thoroughly enough for it to be worth a detour.

The comparison between Paul and Carol is pretty blatantly obvious, even in the narrative. Paul and Gene both recognize it (Gene, initially, when he notes that Carol doesn’t seem to belong at 54 any more than Paul does), and it makes them highly uncomfortable. (Mary-Anne, Carol’s friend, also notices it-- “she [Paul] reminds me of Carol. Just pitiful.”) They’re both very shy, insecure people that have thrust themselves into a world they’re not naturally suited for (show business) in order to achieve their own ends. They’ve both put great stock in a single person who helped them (inadvertently or not) during a dark time, and are driven by those feelings, despite knowing that person is out of reach.

Physically, they’re intentionally mostly opposite (Carol’s short, with a slight build, lighter hair, blue eyes, vs. Paul being, well, Paul-- tall, fuller build, black hair, brown eyes). But narratively speaking, neither of them are described as beautiful; “cute” and “kind of pretty,” sure, but nothing past that (except when Gene says it towards the end). That was important, too, for a couple of reasons. One, I wanted to further the comparison between them; two, I wanted to at least try and dispel the idea that all groupies were glamorous; many of them were rather ordinary-looking.

Paul not being “playboy material as a girl” was very deliberate. I feel like a lot of sexswaps tend to make the guy in question end up a ridiculously hot babe, which didn’t quite jive with what I was going for (not that I wanted Paul to end up awful-looking, but...). ... He’s probably hotter than he thinks he is though; at least, Gene didn’t mind at all, and Pete thought he was pretty. I wanted him to be recognizable if one knew where to look (face, body language). I didn’t want him to end up a tiny, frail-looking waif-- given what he looks like as a dude, that didn’t make sense to me. So this meant the less perfect attributes had to stay and carry over to a female body. He ended up with big boobs because... well, honestly because if he wasn’t going to end up with a great figure overall, he might as well have great boobs. And I mean, really, his chest’s already pretty all right as-is.

I didn’t want there to be a love triangle, but I did want it obvious, at least in an offhand way, that Peter and Paul had had sex (Ace mentions it in the car with Peter, with his “how long did it take you”). I wanted to incorporate Ace and Peter to as great an extent as possible in general.

Marbas is an actual demon from The Lesser Key of Solomon, although other than the few sentences Paul reads off from that grimoire, there’s not much more information on him to be found. 

[sugas-sweetheart]

20 questions tag

hi hi thank you @katsushimaa for tagging me Ily 😚😚

1. What do you prefer to be called name-wise?

Sofia!! or sometimes Lulu but like no one apart from family uses it which is sad

2. When is your birthday?

April 15th <3

3. Where do you live?

The UK, England to be more specific

4. Three things you are doing right now?

Thinking about my physics exam tomorrow, what I’m going to wear for non-uniform tomorrow and if I have any iced tea left 😌

5. Four fandoms that have peaked your interest?

Haikyuu, IDKHOW, Star Wars (damn I’ve been watching Star Wars my whole life 🧍‍♀️) and uhhh BNHA

6. How has the pandemic been treating you?

pretty well I guess?? Cut some people off because I wasn’t forced to see them everyday and he was such a dry texter bc he responded with like one word to my questions- 😭 other than that I just did my work from home and called my friends like daily lmao BEING IN LOCKDOWN ALSO BROUGHT ME THIS BLOG THOUGH SO TY 2020 FOR THE PPL IVE MET ON HERE.

7. A song you can’t stop listing to right now

From the gallows by IDKHOW

8. Recommend a movie

X-Men: Days of future past

9. How old are you?

This might surprise some ppl 15

10. School, Univeristy, occupation, other?

My final year of secondary/high school I’m currently having a breakdown over what courses to take into college ��️😚

11. Do you prefer heat or cold?

COLD. I really don’t like summer ✨

12. Name one fact others may not know about you

I really don’t have much to say uh,,, I’m I really can’t think of something 🧍‍♀️ okAY I THOUGHT ABOUT THIS A LOT LMAO. as a like baby I just didn’t want to walk, like i was bribed with a penguin chocolate bar to walk bc I was just perfectly happy with crawling lmao

13. Are you shy?

Sometimes! online I’m like scared of annoying ppl too much and irl I’m awkward around ppl that I don’t really know,

14. Preferred pronouns?

She/her

15. Biggest pet peeve?

I honestly dk, maybe like slow walkers bc I walk home lmao there was a massive group of 12 yr olds walking home last week and there were sO many of them and walked at about 1mph

16. What is your favourite “dere” type?

I don’t know all the dere types but maybe dandere?

17. Rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crapppy and 10 being the best it could be

Maybe around a 7?? There are lots of things I wish I could go and do or wear but uh,, family aka my mum is like n o other than that I have a life that I’m happy with

18. What’s your main blog?

This one! I don’t have any other blogs and I joined tumblr primarily to write so this is my writing/main blog <3

19. List your side blogs & what they’re used for

as stated above I don’t have any lmao

20. Is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends?

I can be talkative or not,, like if im in a weird mood I’ll say like three words,, uh I like sugawara a lot ❤️ and I will rant to you, if you’re willing to listen, when someone has gotten on my nerves lmao

Tagging: @vhskenma @mystic-helena @icejins @ordinary-ace @goopyartiste @spookykiri @yee-harr @bizzoldmann-08 @peach-pops + anyone else and I’m sorry if you’ve already been tagged >_<